


Something So Right

by t_fic (topaz), topaz, topaz119 (topaz)



Series: Something So Right [1]
Category: Backstreet Boys, NSYNC
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, PWP, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-20
Updated: 2005-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:45:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 87,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/t_fic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz119
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four boybanders in a committed polyamorous relationship. No, <i>really</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Los Angeles - March 2004

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with without_me.
> 
> Huge thanks to everyone who read and offered suggestions, including, but not limited to learn_me, synecdochic, chopchica, northernveil, pierson, and anyone else we might have accosted on AIM. And most especially to glace, who not only read, but who came up with the best summary _ever_.

_Some people never say the words I love you  
It's not their style to be so bold  
Some people never say those words I love you  
But like a child they're longing to be told_

**March 2004**  
Jesse has no idea where JC came up with not one, but _two_ perfectly tailored uniforms. When he'd asked, JC had just laughed, kissed him on the cheek, and left to take Lance to dinner.

He and Nick feed and run the puppies, then settle them in their crate before showering and getting down to business. A close shave tonight; it seems only appropriate.

Nick ends up having to help him with the topmost hook and eye, and Jesse has to fiddle with Nick's cummerbund, but when they're finished, Jesse can hardly recognize either one of them. The only bits that are missing are the swords, which, given the fact that Nick is wearing one of the uniforms, is probably wise. Nick would be sulking, but the uniform JC'd handed to him came with a long cloak, so he's distracting himself with that.

Jesse's pretty damn distracted by it, too, but it's not quite enough to dispel the slight unease he feels as he looks at the ribbons on his chest, symbols of battles he doesn't even know the names of. They look good, and Jesse knows Lance is going to love it, but it doesn't seem quite right.

Nick stops playing with the cape and moves up behind him, catching his eye in the mirror and grinning. "Relax, dawg. C knows some chick who works wardrobe for Universal. These are from a movie she worked on." He runs a finger over Jesse's medals. "They're not the real thing; they're the wrong colors or something."

Jesse leans back against Nick for a second, appreciating the solid strength behind the smile, but straightens up when he hears JC's car, the distinctive purr of the Mercedes outside the house. Nick's spiking up his hair and pulling on his white gloves, and then the front door's opening and they're on.

***

"Come on," Lance is saying as keys clank into the bowl by the door. "You've clearly got something planned--you're hopeless at surprises, C, and you know I say that with love, but you've been grinning like an idiot all night, and I really find it hard to believe Jesse turned down dinner at Lucques in favor of something out of the refrigera--"

Jesse and Nick step out of the hallway and into the living room, and Lance stops. Not only his words, his entire body; he puts his leading foot down and stares like he doesn't know what to do next. Jesse almost laughs. It's like a cartoon or something, like Lance ran smack up against an invisible wall.

"Refrigerator," Lance finishes, under his breath, moving forward again, but slowly now, like he's not sure what to do, what to say. "Holy..."

Jesse meets JC's eyes over Lance's shoulder, reading JC's own appreciation, silent but warm. And then Nick's hands come down on Jesse's shoulders; Jesse can't see the gloves but he imagines he can feel them, an extra interruption between Nick's skin and his.

"You," Nick says to Lance and JC. "Over there." Again, Jesse can feel the tilt of Nick's head, motioning toward the sofa. They haven't discussed this, haven't planned it out, but Nick apparently has something specific in mind. JC and Lance don't argue--Jesse suspects Lance _couldn't_ argue right now if he tried, and JC is clearly along for the ride, whatever that might be. "And you," Nick says, turning Jesse to face him. "Down."

Nick could push him down if he wanted to. Nick's not stronger than he is, really, but he's got leverage. He doesn't, though. Just says the word and _looks_ at him, and Jesse hits the floor like he's been taking orders all his life.

Well, it's not exactly an unfamiliar--or unwelcome--position. On his knees before Nick, stiff dress shoes awkward on the carpet, he looks up, back straight, his blood already pulsing hotter, faster. "Yes, sir?" he says. He hears Lance swallow, but he doesn't turn his head to look. Lance isn't part of this, not right now. This is just him and Nick.

***

JC didn't expect it to be so quiet. It's like when he was a kid, and his dad would take him and Tyler to watch Silent Drill at the Barracks in DC, and the only sounds came from the gasps of the crowd. Lance hasn't said a word since Nick ordered them to the sofa. The only way JC can even be sure Lance is breathing is the slight up and down movement under his hands as he unbuttons Lance's soft cotton shirt and slides his hands along warm skin. Still silent, Lance shifts back until he's pressed up hard against JC, and JC can't resist the temptation that the curve of Lance's neck always presents. The skin is silky under his tongue, a little salty, but Lance stays quiet even when JC scrapes his teeth over that one extra-special spot.

Of course, looking over Lance's shoulder at Jesse and Nick, JC can't blame him for not wanting to break the spell. They're hot as hell, even if it has to be awkward. Maybe especially because it's awkward. In that high collar, Jesse can't really bend his neck, and every time he curves his spine to get a better angle, Nick's white-gloved hands tighten in his hair and he straightens back up with an almost audible snap.

Nick glances over at JC and Lance occasionally, but the rest of the time, he's focused completely on Jesse. When he comes, though, he looks up, straight at them. He doesn't close his eyes at all; lets Lance--and JC--see right into him. Lance is almost shaking in JC's arms, and, not for the first time, JC thinks how lucky he is to have been invited to share this relationship.

Jesse's breathing in heavy gasps, and when Nick tugs his head up, JC can see his mouth is swollen and wet. Nick arches an eyebrow and Jesse fumbles a little, like he can't quite deal with fine motor control, but finally manages to put Nick back together and stagger to his feet.

Nick shrugs out of the boat cloak and hands it to Jesse to put aside, and JC is suddenly glad he hadn't simply asked for two of the same uniform. Nick's shoulders are impossibly broad in the short jacket, and the white shirt is crisp and formal. JC can't help but wonder what Nick's wearing in his piercings.

Next to Nick, Jesse looks long and lean, the heavy tunic adding just the right amount of bulk to his slender frame, and together they're gorgeous. As they cross the room, Lance's heart is pounding under JC's hand, and he's breathing almost as heavily as Jesse. JC grins at Nick, because Nick was so very right about all of this.

Nick doesn't smile back, but he does drop a half-wink while Lance is distracted by Jesse. When they get to the sofa, Nick finally breaks the silence. "Him next," he says to Jesse, but he's looking at JC, not Lance.

  
***

 

 

Even on a bad day, head from Jesse is something to give loud and enthusiastic thanks for. This is not a bad day.

Jesse reaches for the button on JC's jeans and looks up at him for the briefest second, those astonishing eyes darker than usual; his customary humor traded, temporarily, for an intensity that takes JC's breath away. Then Jesse's mouth comes down on him and maybe he'll never breathe again. Jesse sucks him hungrily, like what he just did with Nick only whetted his appetite. Like JC is vital to him, essential.

Not hurried. No. JC doesn't think he's going to last long, but it's not because Jesse's rushing. He's... _devoted_. Or that's the best word JC can come up with, and sometimes he wishes his brain would stop trying to find words for things at times when words aren't important.

His hands go to Jesse's hair automatically, petting, stroking over his ears and then catching on the unfamiliar fabric of his collar. Jesse takes him a fraction deeper and JC groans and leans back, letting Jesse get into whatever position's most comfortable for him. In the process of shifting, JC blinks and remembers Lance and Nick are there, too.

Nick has Lance in front of him--almost like JC had him earlier, except standing. Lance looks stunned; helpless. Needy. Nick's hands are on Lance's chest, teasing or holding him back, or maybe a little of both, and Nick's murmuring something in Lance's ear that makes Lance shudder. Lance's mouth is wet; Nick must have kissed him before... _arranging_ him like this. On display for JC, the way Jesse and JC are on display for Lance.

It's almost hallucinatory. JC watches Lance, fascinated. Lance is staring at Jesse, apparently blind to everything else. Nick... Nick's probably watching all three of them, and that's pricklingly hot. Jesse's got one hand between JC's spread thighs, stroking lower as he licks and sucks, and JC moans, every cell in his body on fire.

***

If Nick weren't holding him up, Lance would be on the floor. He's not too proud to admit that; he'd say it out loud if he could remember how to form words other than "Godgodgod." It would be good if Nick could breathe for him, too, but they'll have to work on that later. For now, he's making do with shallow pants and the occasional gasp whenever Nick says something particularly hot. It manages to be enough, mostly because Nick won't shut up.

It's not just Nick, either. JC isn't one for silence during sex; when he's enjoying himself, everyone knows it. Judging by the low murmur that hasn't stopped since Jesse first hit his knees, JC is having a hell of a good time, and Lance is right there with him.

But it's Nick who's really running things, and it's his words that are shredding the last bit of control Lance has. He can handle watching Jesse work JC over, he can handle JC's porn soundtrack, he can even deal with the look on JC's face as his hips come up off the sofa, hard and fast and out of control.

What's going to destroy Lance is the light, soft voice in his ear that won't stop, the whisper that won't let him let go of what he's seeing, that finally breaks him with, "You want that pretty mouth on you, too, don't you? He's good tonight; he wants it, look at him, he's taking everything C can give him, took me without a whimper, and yeah, you know he wants everything you can give him, wants to take it and beg for more." Lance can't stand it, he has to touch himself, but Nick's faster than he is, and has both wrists trapped and behind his back before Lance can do more than hiss in frustration.

JC can't last much longer; his voice is ragged and hoarse and Lance can see the muscles in his legs straining. He comes with a long low growl, and Nick bites down on the curve of Lance's neck, hard enough to draw blood. The hand wrapped around Lance's wrists tightens until the heavy gloves cut into his skin and Lance can't hold back the helpless whine.

Jesse sits back on his heels, breathing heavily, and he must be smirking because JC laughs softly and leans down for a long lazy kiss. Nick licks over where he bit, and up Lance's neck to kiss him, and the taste of sharp copper almost makes Lance dizzy. Then Nick finally lets him up for air, and all Lance can see is Jesse, still on his knees, watching him now. JC's petting him softly, and Jesse's arching into the touch, but his eyes are locked on Lance. They're hungry and needy, loving and adoring, and now Lance's head really is spinning.

Nick nips gently at his ear. "What do you want, babe? He's all yours; you know that, right?" Lance nods once; he's always known, but tonight is already beyond anything he's ever dreamed. Nick doesn't stop talking. "You can have anything you want, have his mouth on you, he's ready for that, ready to let you fuck that pretty mouth."

Nick's not whispering; Jesse and JC can hear what he's saying as well as Lance can. Jesse's eyes never leave Lance. Nick asks, "Or do you want to taste him, see how hard he is from doing C and me, see how long he'll last? Is that what you want? To be on your knees for that uniform, not just jerking off in front of porn, but taking him deep and trying to breathe around him?"

Lance's heart is pounding hard, so hard he's afraid he'll miss Nick's words, but he can't calm down. Nick's growling now. "Tell me, tell us what you want. Do you want to fuck him, right there on the floor?" Jesse stirs restlessly at that but Nick talks right over him. "Or do you want to be fucked? Get bent over the couch so you can watch him in the mirror, watch him take you, watch us watching you?"

Lance can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but shake in Nick's arms. JC stands up in one fluid motion, shimmying the rest of the way out of his jeans and stripping off his shirt. He steps closer and brushes his lips over Nick's, then kisses Lance hard and nasty, until Lance is making shameful, needy, begging noises deep in his throat.

JC's smile is pure evil. His hands are moving on Lance's body, long liquid strokes everywhere but where Lance is dying to be touched. "I think," he says, stopping to tease Lance's nipples to aching hardness before pinching them roughly. "I think Lance would like all of that."

Lance nods helplessly. JC bends down to lick and suck where Nick bit him, and Lance sees the blood on his lips as he leans in to kiss Nick. "So," JC says, "I think you should tell him what to do." Lance whimpers softly, and JC laughs. "I think he'd like that best of all."

***

This is great; this is amazing; this is better than he'd dared to hope. JC's standing there, buck, and Jesse looks like a porn fantasy come to life, and he's a little bit afraid Lance may pass out before he even gets to the fun part. "I can do that," Nick says, and if he's also hoping he'll get his turn with JC tonight, well, nobody ever said he wasn't greedy.

But. Lance first. He clears his throat, then takes a slight step back. He's still got Lance's wrists trapped, and he loosens his grip but doesn't let go. "You gonna be good, Bass?" he asks. "You gonna do what I tell you?"

Lance makes some strangled noise that could be yes or no or something in Russian for all Nick can tell, but he manages a recognizable nod.

"Okay. Good." Nick's about to let go of him, tell him not to touch himself, but then he gets a better idea. He smiles, and either JC can read his mind, or he has faith, because JC grins back and kisses Lance's mouth again, stroking Lance's chest, holding his hips, not letting Lance get close enough to grind against him the way he'd clearly like to. "Now," Nick says, when JC finally steps away, "Jesse's waiting, man, and he's been good tonight." JC steps back to where Jesse's still kneeling in front of the couch and runs his fingers through the dark hair. "Yeah, so good," Nick croons. "Somebody needs to take care of him, give him the kind of reward you get for doing everything you're told."

Lance doesn't say anything, but he drags in a deep breath, which is good enough for Nick. "C'mere, Jess," Nick says. "Lance, on your knees." Jesse stands, and Nick nudges Lance into a kneeling position, spreading his own legs so he can kneel behind Lance, hands still on Lance's wrists. Nick tilts his head. "C, what do you think? I bet Lance could open those trousers with his teeth if we thought he should." Lance breathes in once, sharply, and Nick grins. He doesn't think he's ever had Lance quite this wound up before. "I don't know, though," he continues thoughtfully. "That might mess up the uniform, and besides, I think I'd rather watch you get Jesse ready."

"Sounds good to me," JC says. He starts by kissing Jesse, long and deep and sweet. It makes Nick's throat ache, watching them. He can only imagine what it's doing to Lance. Then JC takes up a position behind Jesse, mirroring how Nick stood behind Lance. With Jesse in the uniform shoes and JC barefoot, he pretty much disappears behind Jesse's body, so all Nick and Lance can see is his arms, embracing Jesse from behind before sliding down the front of his tunic, then beneath to unfasten his fly. Jesse's standing straight, not really at attention, but pretty damn close, though his eyes flutter closed when JC's hand skates over the front of his pants.

The slide of a zipper, and the trousers fall to the floor. Jesse's wearing boxer-briefs underneath, the black fabric molded to his thighs. Lance moans, swallowing audibly. There's a moment's pause, and Nick's about to tell Lance to get started, but then JC apparently decides he's not quite finished. His hand pale against the dark background, he parts the front of the tunic and cups Jesse's erection, then gently works it out through the flap in the briefs before kissing the side of Jesse's neck and stepping back.

***

Lance is good. There's never really been any doubt of that in JC's mind, not since the first time Lance had kissed him, a million years ago, in Germany--but tonight, seeing him come out of the near-catatonic state he'd been in while watching Jesse suck JC off, JC is impressed with his single-minded dedication to his assigned task. Of course, it looks as though Nick might have hit on that one particular fantasy, that one place everyone carries deep inside, the one that's so internalized you can't really even articulate it, it just defines what sex is to you. Apparently, going down on somebody wearing dress blues is what does it for Lance. And being told to do it, being restrained while doing it, and doing it in front of people probably isn't hurting either.

Nick's still holding Lance's wrists, but loosely now, and JC can see that Lance is using it for balance as much as anything. That's the Lance he knows and loves, turning every little thing to its best advantage, even when he's on his knees. Nick's pretty happy, too, maybe even smug. JC can't really blame him; this was an _excellent_ idea, and he's going to have to send flowers, lots of flowers, when he returns the uniforms. And have everything triple-cleaned before he takes it back, but he can worry about that later.

So, Lance is blissed out, Nick is thoroughly pleased with himself, JC has absolutely no complaints about his current state of sexual well-being, and that just leaves Jesse. Jesse may be the one of them who's most solid in his relationship with Lance, but he's never lived the over-the-top craziness they all grew up on.

Right now, though, Lance is too deep in his fantasy to worry about Jesse's limits, and that's as it should be. Nick's keeping a close eye on Lance, so that means JC gets to watch over Jesse. He steps up close to wrap his arms around the heavy wool, and murmurs, "How ya doing, babe?"

Jesse shudders, and moans, "God, so good, I. So so good." Lance glances up at JC and growls, and JC has to catch Jesse when his knees buckle. He bites back a laugh and soothes Jess, pets him until he can stand on his own, almost missing Jesse's soft, "Please. Pleasepleaseplease."

"Please, what, baby?" JC whispers back. "What do you want?"

Jesse's thrusting helplessly, but Lance is firmly in control and JC's been on the receiving end of enough Bass blow jobs to know Jesse's not going to come before Lance is good and ready for him. Jesse finally manages to choke out, "More. Want more, _please_. Not just this."

JC looks over at Nick, to make sure he heard. Nick grins and tightens his grip on Lance's wrists, tugging sharply until Lance straightens up, snarling curses and threats. JC lets Nick deal with Lance while he coaxes more out of Jesse. There's not much to get; Jesse's not very coherent. JC manages to understand that Jesse really wants some fucking to be happening, and if JC's hearing right, he doesn't much care which way it happens. JC has a few ideas about that, but he's not the one in charge here, not right now at least. Once Nick's finished kissing Lance back into submission--and JC doesn't think that will take long what with the uniform and all--Nick can decide what path he wants to take. JC's own plans can wait until later.

The night's barely begun.

***

He's going to die. He's going to die tonight, his heart's going to give out; this is too much, too good, too... everything.

He nearly came doing Nick; nearly came in his borrowed, not-quite-real uniform pants. By now he's been so hard so long he's not sure he remembers what it was like not to ache, not to be so turned on every touch makes him shiver.

The loss of Lance's mouth was painful, but he trusts that whatever Nick and JC have in mind will be good. More than good.

It's Nick who takes his hand, helps balance him while he toes off the uniform shoes and trousers, and leads him toward the stairs. The short walk to the bedroom gives his brain a chance to start functioning again, and then Nick pulls him close, kissing him deeply, the fabric of Nick's uniform rough on his cock, and what was that about thinking? Jesse concentrates on staying upright, clinging to Nick's shoulders when Nick licks and bites his way out of the kiss. "Shh," Nick murmurs. "Just a minute. I promise. We're gonna take care of you. Such good care." Jesse nods, swaying slightly, but he can stand on his own; he can.

That confidence wavers a little when Nick turns to Lance. "On the bed," Nick says, and then, "On your back," when Lance starts to lie down. "So you can see." Lance stares at him a second, but obeys. Lance. Obeying. JC appears at Jesse's side, smiling and putting a steadying arm around him, and Jesse accepts it gratefully.

Even more gratefully when he sees what Nick has in his hand.

JC hums appreciatively as Nick puts the cuffs around Lance's wrists, checking to make sure the leather fits snugly before securing them to the headboard on either side of Lance's head. "There," Nick says, stepping back to look at Lance. "I think you're ready, aren't you?"

Then he turns to Jesse. "He's all yours, baby. He can give you whatever you want. He wants to give it to you. Don't you, Lance?"

The sound Lance makes isn't exactly a yes. It's very clearly not a no, though, and that's good enough for Jesse.

It's scary, this. His heart wouldn't be pounding half as fast if he were the one in the cuffs, but this is so different from what he usually does. Still, he can see the arousal on Lance's face, the need in his eyes, and he really would do just about anything for Lance.

"You can do whatever you want," Nick murmurs. "I bet he'd love it if you fucked his mouth a while longer, then fucked his ass. What do you think?"

***

Lance is gone. He's thought that more than once over the course of the night, but this is it. The only thing left of James Lance Bass is curled up in a tiny corner of his mind. The rest of him isn't a person now; it's a body, an object, a fuck-toy that's there only for the pleasure of the nameless, faceless man who's using him, and for the others he knows are watching. Lance-the-person went away when he looked up and realized he couldn't see anyone's face as Jesse straddled him, only the long blue tunic and the hands holding his head still. Downstairs, Nick had been holding his wrists, but he'd still had a lot of control. Here, he's helpless. The angle's all wrong, he has to focus hard on getting some air or he's going to pass out, but it's clear that that's not a particular concern to anyone but him.

Not really, of course. In that little corner of his mind, Lance knows that it's Jesse, and he'd be horrified if anything like that happened, and Nick and JC will make double and triple sure it doesn't go too far, but in the here-and-now, there's a dick far enough down his throat that his vision's blurring and he's definitely light-headed and all he can do is lie there and take it. And moan for more.

It's close, but right at the point when he's going under, his airway's suddenly clear and he can breathe. He's so grateful to have oxygen in his lungs and so busy blinking furiously to try to clear his vision that he misses everything that follows until there's a hard slap on the inside of a thigh, and before he can think, he spreads his legs. Someone--Nick?--laughs and tells him he's a good slut, and if he keeps being good, maybe they'll let him come, then kisses him until his head's spinning again.

After that, he does whatever he's told. Sometimes there's a hoarse voice telling him to move, or to be still, but most of the time there are just things happening to him: fingers twisting hard inside him, stretching him; teeth teasing and scraping over nipples and balls before marking him, hard; hands holding him spread wide for everyone to see. He's never been like this before, never given up this much control, but it's not until the one perfect lazy lick along the length of his cock that he truly breaks. It's the first he's been touched and he needs more, begs for it, cries for it like he's never been able to do.

In the corner of his mind, he understands that it's because he knows it's Jesse who's fucking him, and JC and Nick who are watching and commenting, that he can let go, that he knows it's safe enough to give everything up. He's not sure he'll ever be able to thank them enough, but he's going to spend a long, long time trying.

***

"Jesus. Jesus." Nick's not even sure who's saying it anymore. Lance is falling apart--has fallen apart--and when he finally comes, helpless and begging on Jesse's cock, nothing left of him but sensation, Nick could swear each of them feels the energy rocketing through them, melting their bones.

Jesse keeps fucking a little longer, but his strokes gentle almost immediately; Nick can see his hands caressing Lance now, rather than bracing him. The two of them are so beautiful together. JC's leaning down to kiss Lance's mouth, lick the tears from his face. He's whispering words of love and praise, and while Lance may not be processing them consciously, their effect is visible; his lips curve faintly, and he arches into JC's touch.

Nick watches them for a second or two before moving to unfasten Lance's hands. He'd thought about leaving him bound longer, maybe fucking him himself, but there's no way he could give Lance anything more than he's gotten already. He puts the leather aside and rubs Lance's wrists gently, one at a time, then works his way up, massaging taut muscles, adding his own words (_beautiful, strong, sexy, brave_) to JC's litany. Lower on the bed, Jesse's licking Lance clean, doing his part to soothe him back to here and now.

Nick's rubbing Lance's biceps, dropping kisses on the smooth skin, when Lance stretches slightly, his fingers tightening on Nick's side. He blinks up at JC, smiling, then pulls Nick closer, tilting his head for a kiss. His eyes are wide, and Nick can see him searching for words, but then he just shakes his head and presses their lips together.

Nick can taste iron, and salt, and he tries to put all the love and passion he feels into one gentle kiss. When they break apart long moments later, Jesse's waiting his turn, and Lance goes to him eagerly.

***

For something that wasn't much more than a spur of the moment decision brought on by a long, lazy getting-reacquainted day after the tour, this has turned into one hell of a night. When Jesse and Nick were taking turns embarrassing Lance half to death by describing--at length--his reaction to the band uniform JC had worn for _Blowin' Me Up_, JC hadn't dreamed of anything like this. Not even when Nick muttered something about _An Officer and a Gentleman_ and Lance blushed scarlet and ducked out of the room so fast he nearly broke the sound barrier.

Whatever JC was expecting, and he really isn't sure what that was, it damn sure wasn't even close to what he's gotten. He's proud of Lance for being able to let everything go, and equally proud of Jesse, for hanging tough and not freaking out and seeing everything through to the end. JC knows how hard it was for Jess, even if Lance hasn't recovered enough to figure it out yet. Nick probably knows, too; he doesn't bat an eye when JC eases Jesse off the bed, just curves himself around Lance in Jesse's place, talking quietly. Jesse has held it together longer than JC expected, long enough to get Lance back to reality, but now JC can see the adrenaline wearing off, and he needs to get Jesse away from Lance before the shakes hit.

Jesse's whispering apologies, or trying to, but he's shivering so hard his teeth are almost chattering. JC strips him out of the sweat-damp tunic, then wraps a blanket around the both of them and sits down with his back braced against the bed and Jess on his lap.

JC pets him and tells him how well he did, how much strength it takes to push someone you love that far and still stay in control so you don't go _too_ far, things he knows Jesse knows, but they're hard to remember when the high of a scene ends. Jesse nods, but he's still shivering, so JC keeps going, tells him how beautiful they were, and how honored he and Nick were to be there with them. He keeps talking, murmuring nonsense after a while, anything to ease Jesse down, until Nick drops his head over the edge of the mattress to say that this bed is a mess, and maybe they should move to one of the guest rooms?

Jesse can walk, and does, but Nick scoops Lance up in his arms, ignoring his protests, and carries him into the other room. JC follows, feeling almost guilty about how damn horny he still is.

Nick goes to deal with the other bed while JC gets Lance and Jesse tucked in this one under a pile of comforters. They're wrapped around each other, kissing tenderly and whispering to each other, too soft for JC to make out. It's verging on the adorable, but they're done for the night, no doubt about that. They're going to be sleeping the sleep of the righteous very shortly, and JC can't blame them, because that was one motherfucking intense scene they ended up playing. He, on the other hand--he's nowhere near ready to call it a night.

Nick comes back in from dumping bedding in the washer, pulling irritably at the collar on his jacket. "You mind, man?" he asks, and JC shakes his head. The uniforms are nice, very nice, and Nick looks fine in his, but it's not JC's thing at all. Nick swears when he can't get the collar undone, and JC laughs as he sees that Nick's got it twisted back in on itself, the shirt half pulled through the nonexistent space between the jacket and his neck.

"And they call me a spaz," he says as he bats Nick's hand away and starts untwisting the mess.

"Hey," Nick protests. "Jess was just as spazzy, and you didn't laugh at him."

There are twin murmurs of protest from the bed, and JC rolls his eyes and says, "They're not dead yet," laughing when Nick finishes it with him.

"Too damn much time on a bus with nothing to do but watch videos," JC says, and Nick laughs. "But," he continues, "anyone who blows the top of my head off, and then gives me live action porn to watch, does not get laughed at, no matter how spazzy he is." He's finally got the collar straightened out and unhooked, and Nick strips it off with a sigh of relief.

"Wait," Nick says with a wide grin. "You're sayin' all I have to do is blow you and give you a show, and you'll stop hassling me?"

JC blinks, but then grins back. Nick's tone is relaxed, without the edge that too often colors what they say to each other.

Nick's jacket is off, and his cummerbund and shirt, and yesyesyes, JC thinks. All that skin is much more his bag. He traces a single finger along the edge of the wave that curls over Nick's shoulder. "You," he says, and stops to lick along the same path. "You are most definitely a special case." Nick snorts, but JC can feel him trembling, just a bit, under his mouth. "You might have to work a little harder for your reward."

Nick tilts JC's head up, and leans in for a kiss. "Bring it on," he murmurs against JC's mouth.

JC'd like nothing better than to drag Nick into the other room right. this. minute. and spend the rest of the night--or the week--figuring out, once and for all, who's the bigger top. "Oh, I will," he replies, letting himself take one more kiss before dragging himself away from the lure of Nick's body. "Let's get the babies off to sleep first, yeah?" Nick's younger than Lance, and most of the time he seems it, but not tonight.

It doesn't take long. They may not be dead, but they're doing a pretty good impression of it. He and Nick wait, though, making sure Jesse and Lance are both sound asleep before leaving them alone.

Finally, they're in the next guest room over. "You'd better still be good to go, man," JC says, stepping closer to thumb Nick's fly open. "'Cause I've done about all the waiting I want to do tonight."

"That makes two of us," Nick growls, pushing forward into JC's touch, and he may not be all that hard anymore, but there's still a healthy--and responsive--handful there. JC squeezes appreciatively and Nick pulls away just far enough to skim his trousers and boxers down, belatedly and awkwardly toeing off his shoes at the same time. The important thing is, a few seconds later he's naked, and it's the two of them and a bed and JC almost doesn't know where he wants to start.

Nick solves that problem for him by kissing him, deep and dirty, wrapping strong arms around him, pressing their bodies together. Nick's so _big_, and JC closes his eyes for a minute and simply enjoys that, enjoys being enfolded, engulfed. Nick's hips are rocking, small movements in time with his tongue, and yeah, that's good. So good.

He breaks the kiss before he wants to so he can be the one to tug Nick over to the bed and tip them down onto it, then takes a second to appreciate Nick's body sprawled beneath his. There's something about Nick's skin that cries out for JC's tongue, and JC isn't opposed to that, not at all. He starts at Nick's collarbone, licking and then biting, savoring the slide of their bodies against each other. Nick likes being bitten almost as much as Lance does, which is more than fine with JC. When he's ready, he bends his head lower and nuzzles, rubbing his cheek against the small peak of one nipple before sliding his tongue over it, tasting Nick and metal.

"Fuck," Nick breathes, and JC smiles.

"Oh yeah," JC replies. "Definitely." He takes the ring between his teeth and tugs, gently first, then harder, and the sound Nick makes sends heat pulsing through him.

***

JC has a goddamned _wicked_ mouth on him. This isn't exactly news to Nick, but watching Lance come apart earlier has apparently put JC in quite the mood. They're not even fifteen minutes into this and JC's already got him a heartbeat away from begging. Nick's holding it together with a steady stream of cursing that would make AJ beam with pride, but JC's working over his nipples with a nasty licksuckbite_tug_ rhythm and Nick knows it's only a matter of time before he breaks.

He needs to move _now_, before JC has him so wound up he won't know how to breathe without permission. He has a feeling he's going to end up there before the night's done, but fuck, the least he can do is make it interesting, show some balls before he rolls over and bares his throat. He tangles one hand in JC's hair, and it's too damn bad JC went and cut it last month, but there's still enough there to grab onto and pull, hard. JC growls at him, eyes dark, but Nick has him tight, tight enough that he can flip them both over and pin JC to the bed.

And yeah, fuck yeah, he loves JC grinding up into him. He tightens his fingers in JC's hair and jerks his head back so he can go for the sweet spot under JC's jaw, but only has time to get one mark on him before JC stretches up and sinks his teeth into Nick's neck, digs in hard enough that Nick wouldn't be surprised if he's bleeding. He has a sudden flash of licking Lance's blood off JC's mouth, and that distracts him enough that JC can twist free and roll out from under him.

JC's panting now, and so is Nick, but when Nick looks at him, JC's almost glowing with intensity. JC's always been good at the laid-back thing, but when he wants to, he can focus with laser precision, and Nick suddenly wants that attention, all of it, only on him. His face must give him away, because JC laughs softly, triumphantly. "Oh, yeah, baby. You are going to feel so good under me tonight."

His kiss doesn't leave any room for Nick to doubt that he's going to be fucked through the mattress before JC's finished with him, and Nick's pretty sure he's going to enjoy very minute. JC flicks idly at his nipple rings, playing with them and saying, "Fucking gorgeous, Nick, so fucking hot," right before he twists them hard. Nick comes up off the bed, barely biting back a howl; but JC does it again, and again, until Nick can't remember why he thought he should be quiet.

When JC smiles and says, "Over," Nick doesn't argue, just rolls onto his stomach and spreads his legs. JC holds two fingers up by Nick's mouth, and Nick doesn't have to be told what to do with them, either. He hisses when JC pushes them into him, no tease, no buildup, only the stretch and burn of his body taking them deep, and then moans as JC fucks them in and out, stretching him wider every time. He grinds down into the mattress, his dick so hypersensitive that the silky-soft cotton feels like burlap, but he only gets away with that once before JC slaps his ass.

"Oh, no, no, no, baby," JC says. "Not yet, you're not getting off that easy."

Nick could ignore JC, he's close enough that once or twice more will get him off, but JC slaps him again and growls, "Up," and Nick's onto his hands and knees before he knows he's moving.

And then there's nothing but the sting in his ass fading to a low burn and the way his blood is pounding through his body and knowing that JC's watching him. Nick grits his teeth and tries to keep quiet, to stay cool, but he can't stand the anticipation, can't stand waiting for whatever JC's going to do next.

"Fucking do it," he snarls.

JC laughs, a soft, satisfied sound that sends a wave of heat sweeping over Nick, but finally fucking touches him, tracing a feather-light pattern over his ass, teasing over the edge of the burn.

"I love your skin, man," JC says thoughtfully. "It marks so easily." He slaps Nick again, even harder this time, not that he was holding back before, and Nick gasps. "Yeah, and I love the noises you make, love to make you make them." Another slap, and Nick's whole ass is starting to throb. "You know what I said earlier, about being tired of waiting?" Nick doesn't answer quickly enough, and JC's hand comes down again. "I think I just found a damn good reason to hold off on fucking you for a little while longer."

***

The sound Nick makes is indescribable. Irresistible. His head bows for a second, and JC wishes he could see Nick's face, but then Nick's strength reasserts itself; he turns, meeting JC's eyes, challenging. "You think so, huh?" he asks. No, _demands_. "You wanna spank me, make me beg?"

Oh yes. Yes indeed. JC wants that a lot. "You think you have something to say about it?" he replies as evenly as he can. His cock is pulsing, eager. Nick's defiance is almost enough to shatter his own control. Almost.

"I think," Nick says slowly, "I think you'd fucking well better do a good job of it. You want this ass, you've gotta earn it."

Nick talks a good game. He wants it, is almost certainly close to breaking--and he _was_ begging a minute ago, or damn close to it. But he's strong, too.

As hard as he pushes Nick, Nick will push back. JC's pretty sure he'll still end up on top of that equation.... but he's not _completely_ sure. Which is the most delicious thought he's had in a long evening of delicious thoughts.

He slaps Nick's ass again, from the side now, full strength. "I always," he says, when he's sure he's got Nick's attention, "do a good job."

Nick bucks, twisting, reaching back to try to unbalance JC, but JC's ready for him, has Nick's knees pinned so Nick's strength spends itself on the mattress. "Naughty," JC warns, grinning, leaning down to bite the lush curve of Nick's cheek where it's already pink with heat. Nick moans at that, caught off guard, and JC nearly echoes the sound. He settles for licking over his teethmarks, then sitting up so he can repeat the process on the other side. A hard slap--two, for good measure--followed by a bite, imagining the feel of the pressure on already stinging skin.

"Fucker," Nick breathes, his breath hitching slightly. "Yeah. Do it. Give me everything you've got--I can take it, and I'll still fuck you senseless when you're done. You think I won't?"

Oh, fuck. Fuck, that thought. "Better... live up... to your promises, baby," JC pants, putting his weight behind every fall of his hand, watching the pattern of his fingers blossom on Nick's skin.

***

Nick can't remember ever having a better night. JC's already outdone every fucking jerk-off fantasy Nick's had about him over the past several months, and Nick needs to get his ass in gear and figure out when his schedule will let him fly out and see JC on the road, because the post-show action is bound to be _amazing_.

Of course, he'll have to live through this night first. JC twists his fingers hard inside Nick and hums almost soothingly over Nick's groan.

"Another one?" he asks, but it's more a statement than a question, because they both know Nick's mostly not fighting now, but he hasn't quite given in yet.

"Yeah." Nick's long since stopped wasting breath on words. He needs all the air he can suck in and more when JC pushes in with another finger and fuck, _fuck_, Nick can't see for the stars exploding across his eyes. "Oh, Jesus, Jesus," he mutters, and he won't ask JC to slow down, he won't, he told JC he could take everything JC could give him and he will, but that's four now, and for all he knows, JC's decided that they've seen enough fucking this evening, and fisting is what's gonna get him off.

Nick's panting hard, and the sweat's dripping into his eyes, but it only takes a second for him to realize JC's fingers have stopped moving inside him. JC must have felt him panic, just like he's heard every moan, every gasp, even the ones Nick choked back; seen every shiver, felt it every time Nick's melted into a touch. He wanted JC's attention, and he's gotten it, every second of every minute, and he's a little scared that he's got no place left to hide, no place that JC won't find him.

Nick twists his head so he can look over his shoulder. JC's watching him carefully, appraisingly. Nick half laughs, "Kev--Kevin always told me my mouth was gonna get me in trouble." He hisses as JC rocks, in and out and in again. "Just, fuck, _fuck_," he has to close his eyes against the burn, "it's not usually this much fun."

He opens his eyes to JC's slow smile, and then JC's easing forward to kiss him, not hard but deep and intimate and knowing. He stays close even after he lets Nick's mouth go. "You ready to finish this thing, baby?"

Yes. No. Maybe. All of the above. Nick lets his breath out in something that might be recognizable as a giggle. "No," he hears himself saying. "Fuck. Ready for... what's next. But not the end. Too--" JC shifts, and Nick sucks in air, Jesus, fireworks. "Too good to end." He's talking about this, right now, and about more than this, and he doesn't know if JC knows that; doesn't know if he wants him to know. "Never--never wanna finish. Keep... oh, fuck. Going." He closes his eyes, feeling the words before he says them. "Whatever you want."

There's a second of silence, a second for him to regret exposing himself like that, a second of fear that he's gone too far, given too much, opened himself to humiliation. And then JC _Mmms_ softly. "God, Nick," he whispers. "What a gift you are." Then Nick's being kissed again, sweet and lush and long, and when he finds himself enough to kiss back, JC makes another sound of pleasure, and his fingers curve inside Nick, reflex or intention, Nick doesn't care; it's so _good_. "Yeah," JC breathes against his skin, "Gonna make this good. So good. For both of us." Teeth on his jaw now, then further back, to his ear. Not hard, just a reminder of the possibilities. JC starts to shift his weight, lean back, but first his voice curls into Nick's ear one more time. "And then it's your turn. If you want it."

It takes everything Nick has not to sob. Jesus. Too much--and it's, yes, exactly what he wants. JC doesn't wait for him to answer, though; he's moving for real now, fingers stroking inside again, again, almost too much, right on that line, and then gone. Nick whimpers, his body shuddering with need, but before he can ask, JC's back, the familiar slip-stretch-slide of lube and latex oddly reassuring. Yes. This he can do.

JC presses into him, not slamming in but steady, freely taking what's been freely given. "Fuck," he breathes. "Nick. You're so." Nick grins, feeling his skin heat, not sure how much is from what JC's doing and how much is the words, the tension in JC's voice.

"Go on," he says. "Yes--fuck, JC--just like that--"

"You got it," JC pants, hands on Nick's hips now, holding him steady, angling them both so it's just... fucking... right.

God, Nick loves this. It's not like he doesn't enjoy being on the other side, not hardly... but, Jesus. When everything is right--when someone really knows how to fuck--there is nothing in the world like it. But it's more than that. They've been here before, JC's had him half-crazy from being fucked more than once; this shouldn't be new, it shouldn't be such a big deal, but somehow it _is_. It's not only that JC has him on the edge, it's that JC is right there with him. It's deep and rough and Nick can feel JC starting to lose it, and that's not something JC's ever let him see before. JC's hanging on by a thread and Nick knows he's waiting for Nick, that as much as JC might want to let go, he's not going to until Nick's taken care of--and Nick finally can own up to how much he's wanted that all along.

***

For such a big man, Nick takes up very little space when he sleeps. JC supposes it comes from growing up sleeping on buses, even though for him, it's the opposite. Put him in a real bed and he's starfished and spread out as soon as he falls asleep. But Nick, Nick sleeps tidily, curled on his side; long, yes, but arms and legs tucked close to his body.

It's not quite dawn, but the sky is brightening, and neither he nor Nick thought to close the blinds when they made their way into this room. There's just enough light for JC to be able to watch Nick while he sleeps. JC remembers the boy he met casually in Germany and the not-quite-grownup struggling to deal with life in the media spotlight, and tries to integrate them into the man he's been getting to know since last fall, the man who gave himself over to JC during the night with a vulnerability that's humbling.

It's way late in the game to be doing this, but better late than never. Now, JC tells himself sternly, is the time to focus on nurturing the bond that formed, however tentatively, during the night.

And while he's being honest with himself, he can admit to being a little unnerved at how _much_ he wants those bonds to strengthen. He never going to be stupid enough to let Lance slip away again, that's for sure. And, in spite of their rough start, Jesse has brought real joy into his life, joy and laughter and a relaxed easy friendship that's been almost impossible to find in people who didn't know him before the group. But he and Nick have been skating around the edges of intimacy since their first night together. That's not bad; it's more than most people ever know, but JC wants more of what Nick showed him last night, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to get it.

Starting now, he realizes, because Nick's awake, blue eyes watching him steadily. JC shifts closer, until he can feel the heat of Nick's body. Not quite touching, but somehow it feels as intimate as a full-body hug.

"You're thinkin' pretty damn loud for this early in the morning," Nick says, his voice hushed.

"Good stuff," JC promises.

"You sure?" Nick asks, and bends his head to drop a kiss on JC's collarbone. Just one kiss, one quick brush of his lips and maybe, maybe the touch of his tongue, and _fuck_, JC wants more. Now.

He's not sure of his voice, so he nods, and finds it's surprisingly easy to let Nick see how much that touch affected him.

Nick smiles, a sweet happy smile, not his cocky grin, and traces a finger over where he kissed. "Heard from the babies yet?" he asks.

"No," JC manages, and yeah, he's proud of himself, because Nick's moved his hand up and tangled it in his hair, and Nick probably already knew that that's one of his serious trigger points, but he'd have to be blind to miss it now.

"Go check on them," Nick says, right before he kisses JC, the hand in his hair holding him firmly in place. "Make, make sure, oh, fuck," Nick kisses him again, deeper and a little roughly. They're both panting when Nick lets him go. JC's aching and they haven't even touched yet, not really. "Make sure they're okay," Nick says. "I don't want any distractions this morning." One more kiss; long, hard, strong. "I want you," Nick moves the kisses along JC's jaw, "all to myself."

Getting up--moving away from Nick--is pretty much last on the list of things JC wants to do, for a whole host of reasons. That voice among them. But, okay. Nick's right, so the sooner JC gets up, the sooner he'll be back.

"Yeah." JC nods, shuddering away while he's still capable of it.

The other room is, unsurprisingly, quiet. Lance is curled on his side, facing the door, and JC doesn't even need to step inside to see he's out cold. When he moves to tiptoe back out, though, a flash of movement catches his eye, and he realizes it's the dawn light catching Jesse's eyes as he blinks. Jesse raises an eyebrow, and JC nods, stepping closer. "He been up at all?" he whispers.

Jesse shakes his head. "No--well, you know how he is, he half woke up a time or two, but he was okay, went right back to sleep. I don't know if he was even awake enough to think about, y'know, last night."

JC nods. "And you, you okay?" He thinks so; he's pretty sure. Jesse looks... uncertain, but mostly relaxed, and he definitely looks like he got some decent sleep, so that's a good start.

"I think so." Jesse's lips curve; he looks at Lance and his eyes go soft. "It was. It was good, I think. Yeah? For all of us."

"I think so," JC echoes. He licks his lips, realizing how tender they are, and it reminds him of what's waiting for him in the other bedroom. "Okay," he says, "so, um. Nick and I. We're--" How to put this? It's a little weird; it's not that common that they're all in one place to begin with, so negotiating time apart from one or two of the others doesn't come up very frequently. "We're not done," he finally says. "So I wanted to make sure, y'know, the two of you are okay, and if you get up or whatever..."

Jesse grins. "Don't come a-knockin'?" He looks like he'd be laughing except that they're both still whispering so as not to disturb Lance. "Sure. No problem. You miss breakfast, though, you're on your own."

JC snorts softly. "Fair enough." Jesse makes a mean waffle, but on the other hand: Nick. It's not a difficult choice. He thinks for a second. "Tell you what, you want to get up, piss, get a drink or anything? I can stay with Lance..."

Jesse seems to consider the question for a moment, then nods. "Yeah. Probably smart. Just in case." Jesse turns to Lance again, pressing a soft kiss into his hair, murmuring something so quietly JC can't even hear it. Then he shifts, slowly pulling his arm out from beneath Lance's pillow, shushing him when he stirs. "Sleep. I'll be right back." Lance mutters again, but then settles, and Jesse rolls to his feet, groaning softly as he stretches.

JC moves closer to kiss him, a quick hello, then gives him a friendly slap on the ass. "Get moving; I don't have all day."

"Pushy, pushy," Jesse replies, and JC raises an eyebrow. "Okay, I'm going."

When he comes back a few minutes later, minty-breathed, with one half-empty water bottle and two full ones, Lance hasn't so much as stirred. JC takes the time for one more kiss, a real one this time, a strong embrace. "You were great last night," he whispers in Jesse's ear. "Exactly what he needed. What we all needed." Jesse pulls back to grin at him, tilting his head, but JC meets his eyes, and finally he seems to accept the reassurance. He slides back in beside Lance, curling close, and JC shuts the door as he leaves.

***

Nick needs to stop thinking so much, because he completely missed JC coming back into the room. He looks up, and C's there, standing in the door, watching him.

"Now who's thinking loud, cat?"

Nick laughs, only a little self-consciously, and echoes JC. "It was good stuff." And it was, mostly.

"Yeah?" JC says. "You don't sound too sure about that."

"Just trying to figure out how I ended up here, with all of this." Nick shrugs. "It's hard to believe sometimes, y'know?" Pretty much all the time, really. But he's working on it.

JC laughs. "You're here--hell, we're _all_ here-- because Lance is a stubborn sonofabitch who won't take no for an answer."

Nick snorts his agreement, because yeah, that's the understatement of the year. Lance never gives up on anything he wants, never. Not like Jesse's much different. Or, hell, any of them.

JC's not moving, so Nick rolls out of bed, because it's fucking stupid that he's here and JC is across the room, and oh, _yeah_, he likes the way JC watches him cross the room. JC shifts as Nick gets close, so his back is against the wall. Nick stops before they're touching, and puts his hands on the wall close to JC's shoulders. He thought he was coming over here to get things started, but now that he's here, he's not so sure what it is that he wants to start. Sex, obviously, but his usual--whatever it is he usually does--somehow doesn't seem to fit this morning.

All he knows for sure is that he doesn't want to fuck things up. As hot as it was with the four of them last night, he's pretty certain that what happened with JC after everything else is going to be just as important to his life as that first chance hook-up with Jesse and Lance. JC holds his eyes steadily, and Nick thinks he sees some of the same stuff there, too.

It's a long time before he leans in for a kiss, even, and all he ends up doing is taking a quick taste. This isn't working, not the way he thought it would. It's not _bad_, but he doesn't have a clue what he should do next. He's pretty sure he needs to throw out whatever half-assed idea he had in the back of his head about what being with JC, only JC, all the way, would be like, and let things happen naturally, because JC is waiting on him. Maybe, Nick thinks, that's what's throwing him off his game. JC, waiting. Wanting, clearly; Nick's not worried about that, not with the way JC's damn near fucking him with his eyes, but he's stepping back and letting Nick set the pace, and that's not something JC does for just anyone.

So, new plan, Nick thinks. Act natural. He laughs at himself, and snatches another quick kiss before grabbing JC's hand and heading for the bathroom. JC stumbles behind him, and Nick throws a grin over his shoulder. "C'mon, man, I don't know about you, but I reek. I can't stand to smell me; you must be gagging."

For being a spur of the moment thought, it turns out to be the best thing Nick could have done. The shower is one of his favorite things in this house (aside from, obviously, the people). Lance isn't the type to skimp on anything, but definitely not something as fundamental as a shower.

Of course, in addition to the multiple jets and extra-large enclosure, this particular shower gets a hell of a boost from the wet, slippery JC that comes with it, one Nick can push up against whatever wall is most convenient; one who'll let Nick put his hands anywhere even if he clearly has favorite places, and who'll put some effort into finding out where Nick likes hands, too.

Nick thinks they might run out of hot water before he gets tired of feeling JC move against him. Lance swears he got the largest hot water heater available, the kind they use in hotels, but Nick has JC in a corner and he's not planning on going anywhere anytime soon, not with the way JC's wrapped around him and the breathless noises JC makes every time Nick attaches his mouth to a new spot.

JC grabs his ass, pulling him close, and that reminds Nick of a few things JC needs to know. He gets JC's wrists pinned to the wall and says, "Don't forget, dawg. I owe you one." JC smirks and Nick grins back, but he tightens his grip, too. "Not this morning, this is something different, but someday, Kev's gonna let me out of the fucking studio, and then, man, then I'll be on a plane to wherever you are." JC's still smiling. Nick says, "Laugh now, man, but one day, you're gonna come off stage, all hopped up and hard like I know you get, and I'm gonna be waiting for you." Nick grinds into JC, once, a promise, a tease. "Gonna take you down, man, take you down hard, and everything else is gonna have to wait while we see how much your ass can take." He's got JC's attention now, and as much as JC likes to talk, he likes to listen, too. Nick bends down to whisper in his ear. "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Just a door, one that probably won't even lock, that's all that's between you and me and the rest of them, all your pretty girls out there in the hall, and you know they'll be able to hear every sound you make, they'll hear every slap, every whimper, every time you beg me for more."

There's more, he's not finished, hasn't even started in on how he wants to bend JC over whatever chair they can find, get his ass up high and his legs apart and fuck him until they're both blind, but JC's managed to get both legs wrapped around Nick's waist, even without using his arms, and he's swearing and grinding into Nick. Nick needs to get them out of the shower because this is not happening here, not this morning. He's got nothing against shower sex, but this morning he's going to spread JC out on Lance's 600-count Egyptian cotton sheets and taste every bit of him, take his time doing it, see how high JC can scream and how long he can take it before he begs, and it's not that complex of a plan, but Nick thinks it's going to work out fine.

***

JC isn't sure what he did, what he said, that clicked Nick over. _On._ He's going to have to figure it out, though, because he's pretty damn sure he doesn't want this to be the only time it ever happens. There'll be time for figuring later, though. Right now, Nick's got him pinned on the mattress, both of them still damp since Nick's idea of toweling off didn't really involve letting go of JC--not that JC has any complaints about that, either. He's not, actually, in the mood to complain about much of anything. Not even the slow, methodical--bordering on excruciating--way Nick seems to have set out to learn his body, trace over his skin with fingers and tongue, finding the places that make him shudder and sigh and moan.

JC loves sex. "A lot," as Chris would say. He loves it with Lance, the closest thing to soulmates he expects he'll ever come; he loves it with Jesse, athletic and full of laughter. He loves it by himself, lush and indulgent. This isn't the first time he's loved it with Nick. But it's rare that he gets the luxury of just _being_. Being done to. Most of the time, it's not what he wants; he loves participating, loves the give-and-take of lovemaking and good old-fashioned fucking. For all of that, there's something bone-meltingly rewarding about being held down, flattened under a body larger than his own, pressed into the mattress and told to _stay_.

Nick's teeth sink into the nape of his neck and he jumps. "You still with me?" Nick growls. "If you're fallin' asleep, I can take this party somewhere else."

JC shakes his head, as much as he can from the position he's in. "Sorry," he breathes, clearing his throat. "Dude, _so_ not asleep. Just--damn--enjoying."

He can't see Nick's smile, but he can hear it. "Okay, then. You go on enjoying."

That's not the end of it, though. Nick keeps going, but his touches are--not _different_ now, just... _more_. From soothing to spine-tingling in the blink of an eye. JC didn't mean the calmness of his response before to be some kind of challenge, but again, there's no bad here. He shivers when Nick scrapes smooth nails down the backs of his thighs, nearly convulses when a warm tongue slides over the arch of his foot. Nick's fingers comb through his still-damp hair, and his mouth starts working, stupid shit, but Nick _hmm_s happily when JC starts chanting his name, so JC doesn't bother to try to stop. "God, yes," and his body's heating now, the lassitude of earlier giving way to desire, to need. He _wants_. He shifts on the bed, rocking gently, and Nick chuckles.

"Behave."

_Make me._ That's the obvious answer, the natural one. The words are in his mouth, but he swallows them back down. It would be good, that path. He could struggle, and Nick--on top of him already, and willing to use his weight--could hold him, force him to submit. They'd both enjoy that. But it feels wrong, somehow.

Nick trusted him, last night. Now it's his turn; he has to trust back.

He exhales, consciously relaxing his shoulders, his spine, his hips--though he can't quite resist one last shudder of pleasure there. He can't let go of all the tension now, not with Nick adding to it with every brush of skin against skin. He can't let go of the tension, but he _can_ control his reactions. At least for a little while. He nods, aware of the slide of soft cotton under his face as he moves. "Okay."

***

JC, it turns out, isn't a screamer. That doesn't bother Nick at all, because JC is clearly out of his head, and Nick's the one who put him there. It's not like it's any kind of a hardship to listen to JC whimper _NickyNickyNickyplease_. Nick may not be as smart as Lance, but he's nowhere near stupid enough to think that's any less of a compliment than a full-out yell.

JC's in touring shape, strong and lean, flexible enough to do whatever Nick wants, but in the end, Nick goes with the pure simple pleasure of spreading JC out on his back, wrists pinned over his head and those long gorgeous legs wrapped hard around Nick's waist.

Nick takes his time, not because he wants to make JC crazy, but because he doesn't want to rush this; he doesn't want to miss even a split-second of JC surrendering to him. JC does push back occasionally, but as soon as Nick leans into him, he settles down. Nick watches him carefully, but JC doesn't seem to be struggling with it, it's more like he forgets that he can let go and let Nick take care of him.

Having JC moving so sweetly under him feels better than Nick could have imagined. It's as though they're washing away the last echoes of all the unspoken shit that's been lying between them from the beginning. A lot of that shit was Nick's; he knows that, but knowing it doesn't make it go away. He's been guarding himself against JC for too long now. There hasn't been a reason for months; it's just a habit, and one he now realizes he should have kicked long ago.

JC arches hard under him, and Nick's finished with taking his time. He doesn't need to be careful, doesn't have to worry. JC can take anything he can give, and Nick lets himself go. Six thrusts--fast, rough, fierce--and he's coming deep inside JC, still moving, still pounding hard into him. Before he stops shaking, before he can crash from how fucking good this feels, he's pulling out of JC, ignoring the whine in his head that says, _No, too soon, staystay_ and twisting around to swallow JC down as smoothly as he can.

"God, yes, _please_," JC moans, hips lifting off the bed. Nick works a hand between JC's legs, cups and rolls his balls roughly, once, and then pushes two fingers inside. "Fuck, _fuck_, Nick," JC says. "More, please, God, don't stop."

Nick's never heard JC plead before; it's better than screams could ever be. He's happy to oblige, adding a third finger and twisting them ruthlessly, and JC comes for him with a soft, surprised cry that fixes something inside Nick that he hadn't even known was broken.

***

Jesse's not sure exactly what happened between Nick and JC while he and Lance slept, but there's an almost audible hum between them even though JC is over on the deck petting and spoiling Lance, and Nick is out in the water with him.

It's not that Nick's not paying attention to Jesse, it's just that there's this subtle vibe, and Jesse knows Lance has noticed it, too. JC's touched Nick more in the last hour than Jesse remembers him ever doing before. Little touches--a brush of fingers down his spine, a bump of a hip in passing, a touch on the shoulder to get his attention--no more than how he is with Lance or Jesse, but it's never been like that between him and Nick.

Nick obviously likes this new whatever-it-is, and frankly, so does Jesse. He doesn't doubt that's what Lance is talking about with JC, but from the way JC is waving his hands and the slightly bemused look on Lance's face, he thinks he might get further seeing what Nick might have to say about things. He and Lance can compare notes later.

Nick's got his arms up over the side of the pool and his head tilted back in the sun. His hair's bleaching out almost white blond, and his skin is golden around the sharp darkness of his tattoos. He's singing along with the stereo, and Jesse tries to remember if all of the Sirens were women. He could definitely see following that to his death--and being happy all the way down.

Nick opens one eye as Jesse swims up. He smiles and tilts his head in a clear invitation for a kiss, which Jesse is all too happy to accept. It's supposed to be quick and light, but Nick has other ideas so it ends up being endless and mindless and so fucking good Jesse wouldn't stop if you paid him. Nick hums and leans back, and there's no way Jesse can resist all that skin that's his for the tasting. He can find out what's going on later.

Jaw, neck, shoulder, a pause for a quick nip at a collarbone, and then it's on to trace over ink. Nick purrs under him, a soft vibration against his mouth that hitches when Jesse bites and settles back when he soothes over the mark. It's different from Lance's low rumble or JC's quiet murmurs, but it's a necessary part of the equation and Jesse doesn't think he could ever pick a favorite.

He licks lightly over a ring, coming back immediately to suck harder at it, but stops when Nick hisses. Jesse looks up in surprise, because normally, Nick is all over this.

"Someone," Nick says, glaring pointedly across the pool, "felt the need to get his alpha-freak on last night."

Jesse glances over, but JC has already hit the water in a clean dive, with Lance not far behind. JC surfaces on the other side of Nick, and leans up for a lazy kiss. He flashes a smile at Jesse, and at Lance, who's come up out of the water right behind Jesse, while he says to Nick, "But you make the most amazing noises, baby." He licks a slow path down Nick's neck and over his chest, no doubt to his destination, and Jesse can feel the sudden tension in Nick's muscles. "How was I supposed to resist?"

JC's looking up at Nick when he takes the ring between his teeth, and Jesse sees the careful consideration in his eyes before he tugs gently on it. Nick groans, "Oh, Jesusfuck, C," and Jesse is in complete agreement with JC. There's no way he can resist it either.

***

It's gorgeous. JC on Nick's left side, Jesse on the right; Nick in the middle with his head thrown back, arching up under their attention. Lance might almost feel left out, but after last night, after being the focus of all their attention for so long, the idea that he could ever be left out in this group is almost laughable.

He'd been a little bit afraid--maybe more than a little--that when he woke up, things would be different, things would be strange and awkward and he'd wish it had never happened. Which was probably pretty silly, but he's never been that naked before, that _raw_, and, well, things you're afraid of are sometimes silly. But in reality he'd come awake with Jesse curled around him, holding him like a treasure. Jesse'd slid under the covers to blow him, sweet and gentle, then tugged him into the shower and washed them both clean before heading back to the bed and asking to be fucked as naturally as on any other day. Not like it was some kind of payment, but because it was what Jesse wanted and needed and what Lance was more than glad to give.

By the time JC and Nick joined them in the breakfast room, the momentary look of concern on JC's face was so incongruous as to be almost laughable. Except that of course JC would be concerned, and if it were possible for Lance to love him any more than he already did, he would have in that moment. Or in any number of moments since then; JC--and Nick, too--indulging him in every way they can think of, and none of it uncomfortable or condescending.

So, sure, he wants to join in now, but it's perfect as it is, so he holds back. And it's not like it's boring to watch. Not hardly.

"My alpha-freak, huh?" JC murmurs, lifting his head just enough to speak; his lips are still grazing Nick's skin as they move. "As I recall, there was plenty of alpha to go around."

Nick grins back at him, and that explains a lot, Lance thinks, about the two of them--_finally_\--figuring out what they should be to each other. About fucking time, but it's not like anyone could have forced them to do it. Clearly it worked out, which is what he's been praying for from the beginning. He wishes he could have been there to see it happen, but that might have been simply impossible. Maybe it needed to be just the two of them, no interruptions, no holds barred.

There's no law against _imagining_ it, though, is there? Or hoping for a rematch? Because, damn. The pool water is cool, but he suspects an ice bath wouldn't be enough to take the heat out of _that_ image.

Nick's laughing, and moaning, and Jesse's body is simply stunning, curved over Nick's chest like living sculpture. Lance can't resist reaching out, a gentle stroke of fingers to wet skin, sliding from shoulder blade to waist.

***

JC wonders if he might ever get tired of this, if familiarity might dull the excitement he feels in having Nick shudder with pleasure--and pain--beneath him; or if someday, his pulse might not race to see Jesse arching into Lance's touch. Lance smiles at him, slow and hot, and that, JC knows, will never change. He's never going to stop wanting to see that, wanting to know it's his.

Nick moans and Jesse laughs breathlessly, and as gorgeous as that sounds, JC needs something different this afternoon. He kisses Jesse, and says into his mouth, "He's all yours, baby." When Nick growls at him, JC bites down hard on Nick's collarbone and says, "Relax. Enjoy," and then he's got both arms around Lance.

Lance comes to him easily, and the lingering concerns JC can't help but have fade more with each kiss. Lance's mouth is hungry and welcoming under his, his arms pull JC close, and JC, as always, is lost in the pleasure.

Lance lets JC move him back, until he's pressed up against the side of the pool not far from Nick and Jesse. Nick's gasping softly, and JC stops for a second to watch Jesse working Nick over, taking him apart with kisses and touches so gentle that Nick can't stop begging for more.

Lance shifts impatiently under JC, demanding JC's attention, and JC is only too happy to comply. He tries to keep things in control, to remember the night; but Lance arches into him, and JC can't not take the invitation.

Lance tilts his head back and JC knows what he's asking for. Bending down, JC leaves a trail of marks straight to the heavy bruise Nick put on Lance during the night. He licks over it once, twice, the remembered taste of blood sharp and hot in his mouth.

Lance is panting heavily, as if he's just finished a fast sprint, and his hands are scrabbling low on JC's back. JC licks again, and then can't help scraping his teeth over the bruise in an open-mouthed bite. Lance stops breathing under him. With the last shreds of his self-control, JC stops himself from biting down harder and reopening the cut, but instead sucks gently, tasting skin instead of blood.

Lance whines, an odd high-pitched plea, and grinds up into him, and JC knows this needs to be taken inside. Now. He doesn't want to have to worry about the--admittedly remote--possibility of photographers anywhere; he wants to focus completely on Lance and his pleasure. He can't resist working a hand inside Lance's bathing suit, though; can't turn down the opportunity to feel Lance move desperately against him. He lets Lance thrust hard, two, three, five times, then steps back and touches his face softly. "Bedroom," he says.

Lance groans, but nods and lets JC guide him out of the pool. JC stops and crouches next to where Jesse has Nick laid out on the pool deck. Jesse's got Nick's bathing suit folded down once, and is tracing the tan line with his tongue to a breathless string of curses from Nick.

JC taps Jesse on the shoulder and says, "Loverboy," then stops to laugh at how Jesse flips him off without looking up from Nick. "Take it inside, in private." Jesse grins at him and pushes him toward the house, then turns back to Nick.

***

It's a perfect day. The wood of the deck is warm under his belly, and the sun's drying the drops of water on his skin, and Jesse's mouth is hotter than either. Nick doesn't want to move, doesn't want to change a thing, just more of this, for hours and hours. JC's a paranoid freak, but that doesn't mean everybody else has to be. Lance made good and sure this place wasn't visible from the outside, and even JC knows it or he wouldn't have been touching any of them at all, now, would he?

"C'mon," Jesse says, dipping a hand in the pool and dripping cool water across Nick's back before standing up. "You heard him."

"Uh-huh." Nick stretches lazily, then pillows his head on his hands. "I heard him." Without turning, he hears Jesse sigh.

"It'd be more comfortable inside."

"I'm pretty comfortable now," Nick replies, but he can hear the indecision in Jesse's voice, and unfolds enough to reach out and wrap his fingers around a damp ankle, stroking gently. "Be better if you were down here, though."

Jesse sighs again, but the tone is different this time, softer. "Nick..."

Nick smiles, shifting up on his side, tugging, and Jesse kneels again, bending down for a kiss. "Mmm," Nick hums against smooth skin. "See? Much better." He splays his hand across Jesse's back, pulling him closer, kissing him until they're laced together, shuddering with pleasure. So good. So sweet. Jesse pulls back a second, panting, lashes still spiked with water and eyes dazed with arousal, and Nick wants to save this moment, freeze it somehow, make it last forever.

"God," Jesse breathes. "You." His lips move across Nick's face, mouth to cheek to brow, nibbling down his nose until Nick can't keep from laughing.

"You're such a nut."

Jesse grins. "You make me crazy. Besides, how else would I fit in around here?"

Nick rolls him over onto his back, licking sweat and chlorine from his skin, sliding teeth over flat nipples, tracing the perfect muscles of his stomach. Jesse's gasping now, soft sounds that heat Nick from the inside. He shifts lower and unties Jesse's waistband, pulling the fabric down and lifting him out, unwilling to tease either of them a second longer. Jesse's salt-slick already, and Nick swallows him whole, Jesse's moans mixing with the lapping of the water and the breeze overhead to form the perfect soundtrack for the afternoon.

When he's kissing Jesse's mouth again, petting him and chuckling softly at his blissed-out stupor, Nick's thoughts drift to JC and Lance, and that's when he finally gets up, pulling Jesse with him. "What?" Jesse asks, too languid for it to really be a protest.

Nick grins. "I think it's time to go crash C and Lance's little party, yeah? Besides, I hear there are beds inside. And lube."

***

They find Lance and JC in the master bedroom, blinds half-closed against the afternoon sun, ceiling fan catching the breeze from the open balcony doors. Nick stops so suddenly that Jesse crashes into him as he's turning around, but before he can protest, Nick slides his hand over Jesse's mouth. Jesse looks around the solid bulk of Nick's shoulder and understands immediately.

It's quiet in the room, so still that Jesse can hear every breath the couple spooned on the bed take. JC is curved around Lance, and Jesse sees as much shelter and protection in his position as sex. Maybe more. Lance leans back into JC, accepting the shelter, but it's as an equal, not as someone who has to be protected.

Jesse knows even before Nick starts pushing against him that Nick won't want to stay, that he'll think they've intruded, and Jesse's tired of it. Whatever happened last night between Nick and JC clearly put their personal demons to rest; the rest of this crap needs to stop, too, even if he has to use a two-by-four to pound it into Nick's head that he's welcome at all times, with all of them, not only when it's lighthearted or all about sex.

So he pushes right back, holding Nick in the doorway, and says, "Do we really have to have this conversation again?" Nick shrugs but won't look up, keeps his eyes to the floor, so apparently, they do. It would be better if he could see Nick's face, look into his eyes, but he's not going to give Nick even half a chance to bolt and then laugh it off later. He wraps his arms more securely around Nick and talks softly in his ear.

"You're the reason why they're together at all," Jesse says. Nick shakes his head once, but Jesse talks right over him. "You know it's true. When it worked with you, when you came into our lives and made everything, God, so much better, so much _richer_, it made him think maybe things could be different with C this time."

Nick's not moving, but he's not trying to leave, either. Jesse doesn't think Nick will force the issue, but he's prepared to cause a scene if he has to. Lance and JC will forgive him.

Nick finally looks up, and he's not quite smiling when he shakes his head and says, soft and low, "I didn't fucking do anything." It's Nick's standard line, and Jesse finishes it with him, "I just said 'Yes,'" before pressing closer and shaking his head.

"You did a lot more than that," Jesse says, and that's _his_ standard response, and he hopes Nick knows he'll say it as often as it takes. "You made what the two of us had even better, and you let us be a part of your life." He drops a kiss on the tattooed shoulder in front of him. "You told him to go for it when you saw him watching C that night, and after that, you did everything you could to make it work."

From the bed, Lance sighs. "Nicky," he says, and that's it, that's what it takes for Nick to stop fighting. He relaxes against Jesse and then steps into the room, pulling Jesse with him, over to where Lance is holding out a hand to tug him down and into a kiss.

Jesse watches for a minute, because the three of them are too beautiful to interrupt, and then laughs at himself. He decides that, today, he fits best next to the long graceful curve of JC's back, and goes to join them.


	2. Interlude - Wango Tango - May 2003

Wango Tango's always been a circus, too many egos in too little time and space. Lance is sure the planning is as good as it possibly could be, but as he and Jesse step aside to let Christina and her entourage by, Lance can't help but be happy that, this year, he doesn't have to perform.

JC does, though, and when they find him he's a little bit stressed out. A little bit, as in, just this side of certifiable, judging from the way he snaps at a girl with a clipboard who's trying to tell him something. He apologizes right away, of course, but the fact that he was rude in the first place is telling enough. Jesse makes himself scarce, or unobtrusive at least, and Lance takes a deep breath and tries to decide the best way to approach this.

Going to the same premieres, club openings--that's easy. They can smile and be polite to each other, no problem; they've been doing that for years, and it doesn't even hurt anymore, hardly. But Lance is here today for JC, and it looks like JC really needs him. Which is a nice change, in a way, but is also... kind of a big responsibility. Especially since it's not like there's anything he can do, really, to help.

"Hey, C," he says, and JC looks up from where he's been pacing out dance moves, muttering to himself.

"Lance!" JC looks vaguely surprised, like he forgot Lance was going to be here--which, in all likelihood, he did.

"I'm introducing you," Lance reminds him, and JC nods.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." They hug, and it's warm, familiar, brief. "What's new?" JC asks, and they chit-chat for a few minutes, Lance delivering good wishes from Joey, and via Joey from Chris. By the time JC's gotten the latest on Briahna he seems to have relaxed at least a little, and Lance takes a look at his watch and steps back.

"Listen, I'll get out of your way," he says, "I think I'm scheduled in twenty minutes or so, if they're on time, and then you're on. I can't wait to see the full thing. You're gonna bring the house down."

JC laughs nervously. "Thanks, man. I hope so. Do my best, y'know?" He shrugs. "You gonna be around later?"

"Well, I've got to congratulate the star, don't I?"

JC snorts, shaking his head. "I hope you're right, man. Hope you're right."

He is right, of course. JC tears the place up, has the entire Rose Bowl eating out of his hand from the second he hits the stage with what has to be a different look and feel than anything else the crowd was expecting that day. It's strange to be standing on the side and watching JC like this, but it's good, too. Lance is so proud of him it nearly hurts. "Wow, he's really good," Jesse says softly, and Lance nods. Jesse touches the back of his hand, just a brush of fingers for a second, then takes a couple of steps away, discreet as always, and Lance smiles after him.

When JC bounds offstage, he's glowing, and Lance wonders which one of them is grinning wider. "Amazing," Lance says, hugging him tight. "I told you so."

The energy is coming off JC in sheets, charging the air as they half-jog back to the changing area. "It really worked," JC's saying. "The kids did a great job, don't you think?"

"Outstanding," Lance says. "The choreography was sharp, and the audience loved you."

"You sounded awesome," Jesse adds, and JC blinks at him, slightly startled. Lance is, too, actually; Jesse usually operates on the don't-speak-until-spoken-to system when he's out with Lance, but it's good to see him being a little more direct.

"I'm sorry," Lance says. "I'm being rude. You haven't met, have you? JC, this is Jesse. Jesse, JC."

Jesse offers his hand, and JC takes it. "Thank you," JC says. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." He goes back to stripping off his costume, and Lance isn't surprised when JC starts muttering about one of the dancers not hitting her mark, and some completely inaudible-to-normal-humans mistake he'd made in the bridge. Some things never change. When JC's dressed in his own clothes again, he turns to Lance. "After I do some interview shit, a bunch of us are heading over to White Lotus for dinner and stuff, you want to come?"

It seems early to be thinking about dinner, but knowing JC, he hasn't eaten all day. Plus, his idea of dinner is probably three quick shots and a few hours on the dance floor, burning off the tension he didn't get to use up on stage. Lance glances at Jesse, who shrugs. "Sure," Lance says. It might be fun. And he finds he kind of likes the idea of spending a little more time around JC, figuring out how they are with each other when being together isn't like a toothache, dull pain accented by random stabs of agony.

Dinner is good. The place is empty when they arrive--it _is_ early--but their group fills up a big table, and Carlos turns out to be surprisingly personable, and funny. JC's still jittery, as Lance expected, but he eats a little before the music coming from the other side of the club lures him away.

Later in the evening, Jesse's gone off somewhere and Lance is momentarily alone in VIP, or not alone, but not in a conversation. JC's on the dance floor nearby, sandwiched between two girls, and Lance lets himself watch--just for a few minutes, he tells himself. JC's always gorgeous when he dances, and tonight's no exception.

The music shifts into something a little slower, and JC sends the girls off with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. Even from across the room, Lance can see him saying _Thankyouhoney_ and the glow on the girls' faces as they fade back into the crowd.

JC slicks his hair back off his face as he turns, the curls completely out of control, and his eyes find Lance without any trouble at all. Maybe Lance should have expected this--maybe he did, deep down, and just refused to acknowledge it consciously--but it's easy to read the invitation in JC's gaze.

He could go down there. He could tilt his head, and JC would come up here. It would be so easy.

He doesn't do either, but he also doesn't look away. He can't hide from the nearly overwhelming need that's screaming at him to go, to be with JC. To take what's being offered, what he would have sold his soul for a hundred times, even if it's only for a few hours. At the same time, he can't hide from the equally overwhelming knowledge that that way lies madness, that it will end the way it always ends, with ugly words and even uglier actions, with pain that will undo all the progress they've made over the past couple of years, all the healing that they found together in Houston.

When, after a long moment, he shakes his head, he thinks he sees understanding on JC's face. And when he turns away from the dance floor, Jesse is back, and Lance knows, with a mix of relief and uncertainty, that Jesse saw everything.

Jesse doesn't say anything, just nods when Lance asks him if he's ready to go. On their way toward the door, he finds a way to touch Lance, once, a casual, seemingly impersonal touch on the shoulder. It's probably more reassuring than it should be, and Lance tries not to read too much into it, but he thinks he sees something like understanding in Jesse's eyes, or even compassion. Lance doesn't turn back, but he knows JC is watching, like Jesse had been.

The valet pulls the car up, and Jesse gets in the driver's seat without asking. When Lance reaches out a hand, Jesse takes it; laces their fingers together and doesn't let go, not even when he needs to shift gears.


	3. Key West - June 2003

_ You’ve got the cool water  
When the fever runs high  
You’ve got the look of lovelight in your eyes _

**June 12-15, 2003**

"No big deal," he'd said. "Just the two of us, something low-key."

Well, Lance's idea of low-key isn't quite the same as most people's. Jesse knows that by now.

This _is_ less fancy than some of the places Lance could have picked. And Jesse understands; they've got certain limitations they've got to work with. It has to be private, and reliably discreet, which pretty much means pricey right there. It's just kind of funny. There's a substantial watch on his wrist already--nothing flashy, but the cheapest Omega sport still costs more than a month's rent used to--and they did a private party at Shelter on his actual birthday, followed up by an even better _ultra_-private party once they got home.

Still, it's a long weekend together, no appearances or interviews or even business calls, Lance has promised. Their "simple" bungalow (the size of the house Jesse grew up in) has an enormous bed, on-call maid and chef service, a private pool plus a nice stretch of beach, and really, what does he have to complain about?

They go out for dinner the first night, a little neighborhood place Lance says comes highly recommended. The restaurant actually isn't fancy, to Jesse's surprise and, okay, delight, as he looks around at the people in beat-up boat clothes, locals with a few other tourists mixed in. There's an indoor seating area that's pretty deserted, with most people eating out on the deck overlooking the water.

"The fish is supposed to be good here," Lance says, which is laughably obvious--a place like this wouldn't survive if the fish weren't good--and Jesse's about to point that out when he takes in Lance's earnest expression and is suddenly struck by the urge to lean across the table and kiss him senseless. Lance, apparently misinterpreting his silence, adds a rueful, "I guess that sounded pretty stupid, huh?"

Jesse shakes his head quickly. "No." He laughs softly, glancing to the side to make sure no one's too close by. "You're adorable. That's all."

As he says the words, their literal truth hits him, and that's kind of a scary realization, here in the middle of a public place. Okay, it'd be scary no matter where it happened. Adore, as in love, for real, and whatever happened to _Sure_, he's gorgeous and fun, I'll have a good time, and when it ends, at least it'll be something to remember even if I can't dish about it much?

But Lance is sitting there looking at him, maybe a bit confused, but smiling, and this is a really bad idea but Jesse figures he's in it already, so what the hell?

The fish _is_ good, and so is the wine, and they watch the sky darken as they eat. "What do you want to do tomorrow?" Lance asks, setting knife and fork neatly on his plate.

Jesse wipes his mouth and shrugs. "I dunno. Beach, maybe? Do a little bodysurfing? Or," he says, grinning, "just lie by the pool and have my very own, very gorgeous cabana boy bring me grapes?"

Lance laughs. "Oh, so I'm supposed to wait on you now, huh?" His eyes are sparkling, though; he liked the compliment even if he doesn't want to admit it.

"I could wait on you, if you'd rather," Jesse says, his voice pitched low, in case someone happens to be walking by. "Rub lotion into your skin. Bring you cool drinks, fan you with palm fronds." It doesn't sound bad at all, really; he wouldn't mind.

"Mmm," Lance says. "Sounds nice. But..." tilting his head, "we're on vacation, we should both be able to relax. Maybe we need to find an _outside_ cabana boy, one who could take care of both of us."

Jesse smiles. "Sure. Maybe the front desk would send one over, you think? Or," he looks around, scanning the area, pretending to consider this guy or that. Not a waiter, that's too obvious. "How about..." He points toward the bar. The tall blond is facing away from them; Jesse might really regret this if the guy turns around and he's butt-ugly. "How about him, you think you could get him?"

Lance takes a discreet look, then chuckles. "You do have a type, don't you?" The guy at the bar is beefier than Lance is, but Jesse feels himself start to blush. Okay, so maybe he has a thing for blonds. Is that so wrong? Lance is still looking, and it occurs to Jesse that this could be embarrassing if the guy catches them staring. He turns away, looking back out at the water so as not to be quite so obvious, and when Lance laughs again and scoots his chair back, standing up, Jesse blinks in surprise.

"What are--"

Lance is grinning at him. "You want him, huh?" he says. "I think I can arrange that."

Now Jesse wonders what exactly was in that bottle. Lance isn't--Lance can't possibly be going to pick that guy up. Lance. Lance Bass. Mr. Plausible Deniability. Is not going to walk over to a perfect stranger and ask him...

But Lance is. "What are you--" Jesse starts, again, but Lance makes a shushing motion and walks away, threading his way through tables on his way to the bar, where he taps the guy on the shoulder and... Jesse can't watch.

Jesse's picked up in bars before, of course. That's no big deal. And really, if anything, that's what he would have thought would make sense: the other way around, Lance sending him to scope out the possibilities, get a feel for whether the guy could be trusted. Though even that seems far riskier than he'd expect Lance to be comfortable with. He hopes Lance isn't doing this because he thinks Jesse needs it or something. It was a joke.

He's still staring at the water, trying to figure out when this evening turned completely insane, when he hears Lance's voice again. "Hey, Jess, I want you to meet a friend of mine." Jesse turns, and the stiff smile on his face freezes solid when he realizes who it is who's extending a hand, smiling at Lance and then again at him.

"Hi, Jesse, it's nice to meet you. I'm Nick; Lance invited me to join you for dessert. If you don't mind?"

Nick Carter. What the fuck. Okay, yeah, Backstreet's from Florida, too; he knew that, vaguely. Jesse tries to stop doing an impersonation of a department store mannequin and shakes Nick's hand, mumbling something and gesturing for him to sit down.

Fortunately, Nick seems perfectly happy to make conversation on his own. "Lance said you guys were in the Keys for the weekend; are you having fun? Have you been down here before?"

Jesse nods, then shakes his head. "Um. Couple of times, in college. Not recently." Not with Lance. Nick Carter. And Lance... did he... Dessert? What did Nick mean by that, what did Lance _say_ to him?

Half an hour later, with the remains of a slice of key lime pie in front of each of them, Jesse still has no idea what Lance said or didn't say to Nick, to get him over here. He can't tell from the way the two of them are talking, either. It's a public place; they're being pretty low-key on the surface, but then, under the table, Lance has his hand on Jesse's thigh, and Nick has a faint smirk as if he knows every time that hand brushes up under the hem of Jesse's shorts.

When the check arrives, Nick says, "You guys have a car, right?" He gestures toward the adjacent marina. "I mean, unless there's a dock where you're staying..."

"Of course we can give you a ride," Lance says smoothly, and he's got that edge, the one that caught Jesse's eye right from the start. Jesse can see the way Nick's looking back, and that's an answer right there.

It's not like he's never done a three-way. Because that _is_ what they're talking--or not talking--about, right? He hasn't touched Nick since that initial handshake, but they're headed back to their place, and sure, there'll probably be some more small talk, but not that much, he guesses. Maybe another drink or two, and then... bed. Which should be awesome. Nick's fuckin' hot, and if Jesse by sheer luck managed to point out the one guy in the restaurant who wouldn't in a million years sell them out to the _Enquirer_, then woohoo for him.

They're pulling up in front of the bungalow before he has a chance to think any further than that. "Very nice," Nick says, getting out of the car and stretching. He's _big_. Now that they have some privacy, Jesse lets himself look. And, yeah. Very very nice.

Inside, Nick accepts a drink, "Whatever you're having," and takes a seat at one end of the couch, looking expectantly up at them. Jesse glances toward the bar, but Lance is busy pouring. He looks completely unconcerned, so Jesse takes a quick breath and sits down next to Nick. Nick smiles. "Lance tells me you like blonds," he says. "Or is that just a handy line?"

Lance puts a glass on the table in front of each of them. "Does it matter?" he asks, and Nick laughs.

"Nah, probably not."

"I do," Jesse says, at the same time, because he has to say something, doesn't he? Has to do something. Participate. "I... was mostly joking, earlier, when Lance and I, we were talking about what we wanted to do tomorrow, but..." He shrugs. Nick takes a sip of his drink and puts it down again, and Jesse figures there's no time like the present. He leans forward, half-smiling. Offering. "What do you like?" He thinks he hears Lance _hmm_ in approval, but that might be his imagination.

Nick, though; Nick's approval is clear. "I like," he begins, and his voice is pitched lower than before, maybe from the liquor, maybe not. "I like handsome boys. With pretty mouths, and pretty eyes." He's leaning closer, too, his breath caressing Jesse's skin, and no, this doesn't seem like such a crazy idea at all. "I like strong arms, and strong thighs. I like to fuck, and I like to suck, and I'm going to kiss you, yeah?" Given that his lips are moving against Jesse's at that point, the warning is kind of irrelevant, but it's not needed in any case; it's fine, it's all fine. Jesse's ready to go just listening to Nick talk, and the first lick of Nick's tongue against his mouth is enough to make him groan, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Nick's shoulder and pull him closer.

Nick's kisses are, well, not tentative, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Jesse thinks he expected to be overwhelmed, overpowered. Nick kisses like he means it, but it's almost as if he's holding back, giving Jesse space to come to him.

Which Jesse can do. Absolutely. He leans in bit by bit, until Nick's sprawled along the couch with Jesse on top of him, and this is better. Much, much better. Nick's unhurried and thorough, as if they have all the time in the world, but he's rocking up into Jesse and Jesse can feel how hard he is already.

When Jesse finally has to come up for air, Nick slides his hands under Jesse's t-shirt. It's nothing more than long, warm strokes up and down his sides, but it's not doing anything to help Jesse catch his breath.

Nick smiles, lazy and bright. "Bass," he says, never taking his eyes off Jesse. "You in, or are you just watching tonight?"

Jesse gasps as Lance runs a hand up the back of his thigh and leans over his shoulder to kiss Nick. _In_, Jesse thinks. Definitely in.

***

Jesse's really glad he only had a couple glasses of wine with dinner. For one thing, this is too good to miss a second of. For another, even sober, the night is a jumble of sharp, disconnected memories, a crazy mess of touchtastesound, from Nick's breathless, "Shit, Bass, you get this every night?" when Jesse goes down on him to Lance watching, clear-eyed and sharp, as Nick sucks Jesse off, then pushing Jesse onto his stomach and sliding into him in one smooth motion. The quicksilver arc of sensation up his spine when Nick takes Lance's place, and the slow, deep murmur that's Lance soothing him, coaxing him into taking more and more of Nick. What's clearest, though, is lying on his side and Lance kissing him, swallowing his moans as Nick fucks him deep and slow, jerking him off with the same deliberate, agonizing rhythm until Jesse comes a second time, hard enough that he can only lie there and shake as Nick finishes with a low growl against the nape of his neck and Jesse slides into sleep with Lance's arms wrapped around him and Nick pressed close along his back.  
***  
Jesse's the first one awake the next morning, and he manages to edge out of the big bed without disturbing either of the others. It's rare that he's up before Lance, but even after he's showered, they're still asleep, so he wanders around the bungalow a bit before deciding to do something about breakfast. He calls through on the house phone and the cook who's assigned to them is more than happy to do anything up to and including a full breakfast buffet, but in the end, he just asks her to bring some muffins and pastries and the stuff he needs to make bacon and eggs.

She's there in no time, and sneaks in some sort of potato thing that she swears will hold in the oven while he's cooking, but otherwise doesn't blink an eye at what he thinks must be an odd request. He doesn't imagine many people come to this place to mess around in the kitchen.

He didn't expect to be cooking, either, but it's that or sit around and think. Brood. This at least keeps his mind safely occupied, and food is never a bad thing. That's what his grandmother says, and Jesse listens to his grandmother, always had, even before she slapped one of his cousins who had been making so-called jokes about Jesse and his friends.

He might be a little too distracted, though, because he doesn't hear anything until Nick's right up in his personal space, peering over his shoulder at the stove and saying, "Damn, you cook, too?"

Jesse jumps, nearly burning himself on the frying pan, and then nearly doing it again when he gets a good look at Nick in the daylight. Ink and more ink and lots of smooth, tan skin. Nick laughs and pours himself a cup of coffee. He looks thoughtfully at Jesse and gives him a warm-up, too, then props a boxer-clad hip on the counter and helpfully points out that the bacon is about to burn.

By the time Jesse gets the smoking bacon out of the grease and deals with the suddenly quick-cooking eggs, Nick's found the basket of muffins and is on to his second, muttering about maybe being in love. Jesse tells him that he's just pledged his devotion to a fifty-year-old Seminole woman who would as soon smack him as give him a kiss, and Nick grins and says that women love to feed him. Jesse slaps eggs and bacon and some of the potato stuff onto a plate and hands it to Nick. "Shut up and eat."

It's not until Nick leans over and brushes a quick kiss across Jesse's mouth that Jesse remembers why he needed to keep himself busy. Nick clearly notices his reaction, but doesn't say anything while Jesse gets his own plate together and they go out to the table on the lanai.

"Want me to clear out?" Nick asks after they eat in silence for a few minutes.

Jesse takes a sip of coffee, trying to make any of this make sense. "I don't know," he says. "I, um." He shakes his head. "This wasn't something we talked about. We were goofing around, and I saw you from behind, and yeah, it's a joke that I like blonds, but I. Didn't expect last night."

Nick nods, and Jesse's not sure why he's still talking, especially to someone who's basically a stranger, all fucking aside, but he can't seem to shut up. "This was supposed to be fun--Lance and me, I mean. But it's not just that now. At least, not for me." He does manage not to say _I'm totally fucking crazy about him_, but he thinks Nick has that figured out anyway.

"Me either," Lance says from the doorway, and Jesse freezes.

Nick stands up. "I think that's my cue to head back to the boat."

Lance says, "No, don't, not yet, okay?"

Nick glances at Jesse, then shrugs and mutters something about a shower, and Jesse and Lance are alone.

"How--how much did you hear?" Jesse finally manages.

Lance takes the chair next to Jesse, putting a plate of food and a cup of coffee down and ignoring both. "I came in right around how you and I were supposed to be fun."

Jesse nods. He figures he's already said more than enough to scare Lance off and Lance is still here, so he might as well go for broke. "Did I, did we just fuck things up? I mean, last night was hot as hell, and Nick is--is--"

"Pretty damn fun," Lance offers.

"Yeah, that," Jesse says, trying not to think, _More fun than me?_ "But I don't need that, and I don't want to think that it could have messed things up between us before--before we ever actually worked stuff out."

It's a lot more likely that _he_ messed things up, falling in love like a girl, and even better, talking about it, but Lance is right there, looking at him like he cares, like Jesse _matters_, so he takes a breath and tries to settle down. "I... Okay, I'm just gonna say this, all right? I really, I don't know how you feel about, about us, whatever we're doing, the two of us, I mean, but I really, um. Care about you. A lot."

"Me, too," Lance says against his mouth. "Care about you. A lot."

Jesse tries to tell himself the sound he makes is a natural reaction to Lance's kiss. And it is, but it's more than that, it's tension releasing, and it's completely obvious to both of them, he's sure, but Lance is kissing him, Lance is licking and nibbling at his mouth, murmuring _sweet_ and _special_ and _silly_, and Jesse can't be bothered to worry about anything. He relaxes into the kiss, pulling Lance closer, sliding fingers through shower-damp hair, tasting and feeling and _claiming_. So special. So good.

After a few minutes, Lance sits back, not objecting when Jesse comes with him, leaning on his shoulder and grinning like a fool. Lance pets Jesse's jaw and clears his throat. "So," he says, "do you want me to call him a cab?"

Jesse sighs softly and sits up. "I don't... what do you want?" he asks. Lance seems to spend a lot of time trying to take care of him, and he doesn't really need it. Doesn't want to need it, anyway.

Lance shrugs. "He's a good guy. We've known each other for years, of course, y'know, on and off. Not--" He anticipates the question Jesse wouldn't have wanted to ask. "We haven't fucked before. But we see each other around, you know how it is. If I tell him to hit the road, it won't be a big deal. He's cool, I know he had fun last night, but if we don't want a repeat engagement, no harm no foul."

Jesse nods. "Okay, but... what do you _want_?"

Lance smiles. "I want the guy I came here with to be happy."

Which is nice. Feels good. Jesse touches his fingers to Lance's where they rest on the table, by his untouched coffee cup. "I am happy," he says truthfully. He thinks another moment. "I had a great time last night. Nick was--is--really hot, and fun. I..." He takes a breath. "If you're good with it, so am I. I just want you to know, y'know, you're enough. I don't need another guy for, um, excitement or whatever, you take care of me just fine."

Lance smiles, and Jesse can't help smiling back. "Good to know," Lance says as he leans over for a quick kiss. "And I promise, the feeling is mutual. But hey, what's wrong with a little extra, when the universe throws it your--our--way? If you're really okay with it, that is."

Jesse nods. "I am. I mean, I want some of this weekend to be just us, right? Like we planned? But it's, um. Fine with me if you want to play with Nick a while longer first."

"Okay."

Lance's eggs look pretty nasty by now, but there's nothing wrong with room-temperature bacon, and the potatoes appear to be as indestructible as the housekeeper promised. Jesse makes Lance sit and eat while he goes to warm up both their coffees, and runs into Nick, fully dressed but for his shoes, in the hallway. Jesse bites his lip, but when Nick nods and starts to head toward the door, Jesse shakes his head. "No, um," he begins. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

"It ain't rude, dawg," Nick says. "I had a blast. Hope you did too. Simple as that."

"I did," Jesse says quickly, "but that's not--I mean. Thanks, y'know, for letting me talk to Lance. But you don't have to leave."

One side of Nick's mouth curves up. "I don't have to stay, either. Really, it's okay. Dude, you fed me breakfast, that's more than a lot of guys would do. It was good, too."

Jesse smiles. His hands are full, but he stretches up for a second, brushing his mouth against Nick's. "C'mon," he says, nodding toward the pool deck. "There are still some muffins left."

Nick raises an eyebrow, but when Jesse heads toward the French doors, he follows. "Never let it be said that I turned down good food."

***

Nick doesn't turn down good food, and he even manages to tease Lance into having some pastry (though Jesse still thinks he can see Lance counting carb grams in his head, which is deeply wrong; this is supposed to be a vacation). After their plates are clean, Lance groans, leaning back in his chair and stretching. "Now I've got to exercise, or go back to sleep," he complains. Either one of those sounds fine to Jesse, but when Nick tilts his head, mischief written plain on his face, then glances toward the pool, Jesse can't help grinning. Lance's eyes are still closed, and he's caught completely off guard when Nick hauls him out of the chair and carries him, over one shoulder, to toss him into the water.

"Fucker!" Lance sputters, surfacing with his robe floating half off his arms. "Carter, you are _so_ gonna regret that..."

Nick sees Jesse coming and manages to toss his shirt aside in time, but his khakis are still on when Jesse shoulders him into the pool sideways. Lance is laughing, and Jesse grins at him, then strips and dives in before Nick can get out to retaliate.

***

Given that they weren't wearing much clothing to begin with, and most of that's now soaked, it's no surprise that they ended up right back in the big bed. What _is_ surprising, Jesse thinks, is that he's not feeling uncertain or insecure, even though the guy he just almost admitted loving is getting fucked right in front of him. Right on top of him, actually.

Maybe it's because this morning, it's all about Lance, and Jesse always does better when he can think about someone else. Last night, Jesse had been the focus of everyone's attention, but out in the pool, Nick had pushed Lance into Jesse's arms with a cheerful, "Bass, you need to fucking chill." Since Jesse couldn't agree more, he'd been happy to strip Lance the rest of the way out of the sodden robe and kiss him breathless before passing him back over to Nick.

In the bedroom, Nick had held Lance down while Jesse took his time tasting every gorgeous inch of Lance's skin. Nick's high-pitched laugh had somehow blended perfectly with Lance's low, increasingly desperate growls, and without even talking about it, Nick seemed to know exactly how to work with Jesse to drive Lance insane. Jesse can't remember the last time he had this much fun in bed.

Now, though, Jesse's back is flat against the headboard and Nick has Lance up on his hands and knees, over Jesse so Lance can rest his head on Jesse's shoulder. Nick definitely likes to take his time, Jesse thinks, and catches himself wondering what it would take to jolt him out of that restraint.

Jesse's not sure how much longer he can take watching, but when he lets his hand slide down to wrap around his dick, Nick stops mid-thrust. "Not your turn yet," he says over Lance's curses. Jesse groans but nods, putting both hands on Lance's shoulders so Nick can see them.

Nick grins and bends low over Lance's back to give Jesse a quick, sloppy kiss. When he starts moving again it's fast and hard, and Lance's voice breaks on a harsh cry. Jesse thinks Lance might shake apart under his hands. He's seen Lance come before, and he doesn't think he'll ever grow tired of the sight, but Nick, Nick's fucking gorgeous, too, and Jesse doesn't know where to look first.

Nick catches Lance before he collapses on Jesse, easing him off to one side and swallowing Jesse down in one smooth motion. Nick's mouth is already a little swollen from kissing, and that thought is all it takes to get Jesse arching up off the bed and coming hard.

The next thing Jesse's consciously aware of is not one, but two tongues licking him clean. Licking Lance's come off his chest and belly, and Jesus, that's hot. The two of them on him, on each other, interrupting what they're doing to kiss, Lance's tongue sliding wetly against Nick's, and Jesse's dick is doing its damnedest to get hard again, even though there's no fucking way, not for a few minutes at least.

Lance makes his way up Jesse's stomach slowly, torturously, tracing his muscles with tongue and lips and, occasionally, teeth. By the time he gets to where Jesse can pull his head up and kiss him, getting hard again is not a problem. Lance's kiss is lush, licking across Jesse's teeth, tasting and sharing. Jesse's fingers are tangled in Lance's hair, and his hips are rocking, and when he opens his eyes he sees Nick watching them. Nick's expression is appreciative, but in a gentle way, Jesse thinks, and it makes him reach out a hand to pull Nick closer. Lance notices the movement and smiles against Jesse's mouth, one more kiss before nudging Jesse and Nick together. Lance palms Jesse's cock, and Jesse groans as Nick licks at the corner of his mouth. "Beautiful," Lance whispers, and Jesse doesn't know who or what Lance is talking about, but he's pretty sure he agrees.

They end up napping for a bit, tangled together, nothing to warm them but the sun pouring in through the windows, that and plenty of body heat. This time Jesse's woken by the bed dipping as Nick gets up. Jesse blinks, turning his head, making a noise that's supposed to be a question, though he's not always at his best when he's waking up.

"Bathroom," Nick murmurs. "Go back to sleep." Jesse doesn't, though, and when Nick pads back out a few minutes later, Jesse's almost fully conscious.

Nick hesitates a few feet from the bed, and Jesse holds out a hand. "C'mon."

Nick tilts his head, lifting his chin slightly. "Don't wanna wear out my welcome."

Jesse sighs. "I said I was sorry."

Nick shakes his head. "Nah. Nothing to be sorry about. You, both of you, totally awesome. But you came here to be alone, right? So I should let you do that. Besides, I should get back to my boat, the restaurant dock really doesn't like it much when you leave 'em there overnight."

Jesse glances down at Lance, curled close against him. He can't argue with what Nick's saying. Still, it feels wrong, to let Nick take off like that. "Your pants are still wet," he points out.

Nick chuckles. "True. I could throw 'em in the dryer, hit the shower, and they'd be dry by the time I get out, dry enough to wear, anyhow."

Lance opens one eye. "I've got a better idea," he mumbles. "Throw 'em in the dryer, then come back to bed. We'll take you back to the boat later." He stretches, cracking his neck, then settles back on Jesse's chest. "I know Backstreet's been off the charts for a while, but I'm sure you can afford whatever fee that place charges for an overnight."

"Don't even start," Nick says warningly, but his lips are curving in something close to a grin. "Okay, fine, I'm not stupid. Two hot guys in bed, you don't have to ask me twice."  
***  
Despite his words, Nick crashes hard almost as soon as he crawls back into the big bed. Lance mumbles something about finishing up tours and dozes off again, too. Jesse could get up, take another shower, go hang out by the pool, do whatever, but instead he stays in bed, not really sleeping, just relaxed.

After another hour or so, Nick comes awake and can't be persuaded to stay longer. "Nah, man," he says as he squirms under the bed in search of his flip-flops. "If I don't go get my boat, I'm gonna end up in the _Enquirer_. 'Backstreet Boy Gone Bad,' or some shit like that, about how I'm an arrogant S.O.B. who expects everyone else to take care of my life. You know how it is."

Lance grunts, but doesn't disagree, so Jesse keeps his mouth shut. Nick also won't let them drive him back to the restaurant. "Cabbing it ain't gonna kill me," he says as he hangs up with the front desk. "You're on vacation with your hot boyfriend, Bass. You shouldn't be thinking about anything but how you're gonna get some next."

Jesse rolls his eyes at that one, and Nick smacks him on the shoulder. "If it was me, Jess, you would've been cuffed to the bed five minutes after we walked in the door."

Lance snorts. "Thanks for the advice. Weren't you leaving?"

Nick grins and stretches, but he _is_ leaving, so Jesse very carefully doesn't think about handcuffs--or, hell, about Nick simply holding him down, big hands on his wrists while Nick... No. Not right now, anyway.

The cab honks, and Nick says, "You've got my number, right, Bass? If you run out of other ideas, come down to the marina tomorrow morning and I'll take you out. I've got the big boat; we can go as far as you want." It's very casual, but for the first time since the restaurant, Jesse thinks Nick isn't as sure of himself as he'd like to seem.

Lance gives Jesse a quick glance, checking, but Jesse has no objections. Lance smiles at Nick and says, "Yeah, that'd be great." Jesse nods and Lance adds, "We'll bring lunch."

_Such a Southern boy_, Jesse thinks, smothering a grin. _His momma would be so proud._

Nick laughs and says, "Okay, good, as long as the Muffin Lady fixes it so we won't die from it." Lance throws a pillow with surprising accuracy, and Nick ducks out of the bedroom, calling, "Bring sunblock and hats. The earlier you get there, the farther out we can go." The front door slams and Lance shakes his head.

"Hurricane Nickolas," he says, and Jesse has to agree. "But he has a point," Lance murmurs as he drops kisses randomly on Jesse's face. "I _am_ on vacation with my _very_ hot boyfriend. I need to remember that at all times." His hand slides purposefully up Jesse's thigh, and Jesse arches a little. Lance catches both wrists in one hand and says, "No handcuffs, but the Russians taught me to improvise with whatever's available. Want to see?"

***

Sex with Lance is great even when he's not trying to prove a point, but Jesse can't help thinking that the best moments of the day--okay, _some_ of the best moments--are when they're just being. Together. Not fucking, not even serious making out, but swimming again, late in the afternoon, racing and ducking each other and laughing until their sides hurt, then showering together, kissing lazily while they rinse off the chlorine. Not going anywhere for dinner except to their private patio, the sky darkening above and around them, the last light of the sun lingering on the ocean. Jesse likes going out, likes the buzz and energy of a good restaurant, and he knows Lance likes it, too, but staying in can't qualify as a hardship with the way the Muffin Lady's evening counterpart cooks, even before adding in being able to touch and kiss and tease. Making microwave popcorn and then tossing it at each other while they watch _Star Wars_ on the theater system in the entertainment room, curled together on the deep, long couch.

More than once over the course of the afternoon and evening, Jesse notices Lance looking at him, not saying anything, but Jesse thinks--hopes--he knows, at least sort of, what Lance is thinking, and he ends up looking away, grinning like an idiot.

They make their way to bed not much after midnight. Not that they're likely to go straight to sleep, of course, but it's also understood that they want to get an early start in the morning.

"Eight okay with you?" Lance asks, setting the alarm on his cell phone. "We could get up earlier, but hell, we _are_ on vacation."

Jesse nods. "Eight works for me. If we wake up before that, great, but if not, that still leaves us a lot of day to enjoy."

Lance calls in a request for a light breakfast as well as a boxed lunch for three. "No, four," he amends. "And can you ask the chef to put some of the breakfast muffins in with the lunch, please," he asks, and Jesse grins.

As soon as they turn out the lights, Lance reaches for him and Jesse curves close, fitting their bodies together. It's so good. It's always great with Lance, has been from the beginning, but today it's been even better. Jesse doesn't think he's imagining it, the way Lance's kisses are simultaneously hotter and more tender. The possessiveness in his touch. It all makes Jesse want to roll over and beg--which, come to think of it, is a very good idea.

Lance fucks him slow and sweet, and they're both shaking by the time they're done. So amazingly good, but when they're sprawled across the mattress, spent and sweaty, petting each other idly as they catch their breath, Jesse catches himself wondering what Nick's doing right then, which is... surprising.

He stretches, leaning up to find Lance's mouth for a kiss. "Mmm," Lance says, his lips curving, and he shifts, hooking a leg behind Jesse's calf and pulling their bodies closer together. "Greedy boy. Not done yet?"

Jesse chuckles, snuggling close. "Oh, don't worry, you've officially worn me out." He can feel Lance grin at that, but hell, it's the truth. He's been well and truly fucked, and he enjoyed every second of it.

"Then..."

Jesse shrugs. "Nothing. I just." He tilts his head, even though the room's dark enough that he can't see Lance's face anyway. "The bed seems really big tonight."

Lance's soft snort is understanding and agreement in one, and his kiss is a promise, even if maybe neither one of them is certain exactly what they're promising. "Go to sleep," Lance murmurs. "That alarm's going to go off before you want to hear it."

Jesse laces his fingers through Lance's and closes his eyes. He listens to Lance's steady breathing for at least a minute or two before he's sound asleep.

***

Nick's boat isn't a rich kid's toy. Jesse hopes his face doesn't show his surprise, because yeah, how fucking rude was that assumption? It's nice, no doubt about that, but it's also quite clearly lived-in. There's a wetsuit hanging up to dry and fishing gear scattered all over, beer and milk and eggs in the tiny refrigerator. As Nick shows them around, Jesse's struck by the thought that this isn't like him and Lance bringing Nick back to a hotel room. Nick's invited them into his home.

Lance gets it, too; Jesse can see that. He probably knew it as soon as he accepted Nick's invitation, and that's something else for Jesse to think about, right after he figures out how to untie the rope--line, Nick yells, not rope--at the front of the boat and gets settled into the smooth roll of the ocean.

Lance is loving this, even if he is bitching about having to act the deckhand. Jesse can't stop grinning, even when he's half-falling into the console where Nick's at the controls because he can't figure out which way the deck's going to move next. Nick grabs him with his free hand and sets him back on his feet, and assures him that he'll get his sea legs in no time. There's a stiff breeze and the sun is dancing in and out of clouds and when Jesse innocently asks how fast the boat can go, Nick's laugh is high and infectious and unrestrained.

***

He's not sure when the sun and laughter all went to hell, but they did with a vengeance, and now, all Jesse wants to do is die. Right here in the bed in the main cabin, quietly and without any drama; he doesn't even care about saying goodbye to his family if it means he won't have to throw up again. He can't move; hell, he can't breathe without waves of nausea rolling over him.

"Jess?" Lance whispers.

Jesse moans.

"We're going back in; Nick says if you're still feeling bad, it wasn't just that rough patch we hit. We should be back in about an hour, okay?"

Jesse finds the energy to mumble, "'kay," but he honestly doesn't know how he's going to survive another hour of this.

"Can you try to drink some water? You're probably dehydrated."

Jesse opens his eyes, and Lance is right there, holding a bottle of water and looking worried. If Jesse didn't feel like he'd just puked up every internal organ, he'd think it was sweet, the look on Lance's face. As it is, trying to focus makes his stomach churn. Hastily, he shuts his eyes again and moans, "God, no, I can't."

It's utterly humiliating, but he can't even smile at Lance to try to make him feel better. "Please, just go, okay?" Jesse croaks. "You don't need to be in here with me, go have at least some fun today."

"It won't be fun with you in here," Lance says stiffly, and fuck, now Jesse's gone and offended him, and isn't that the cherry on the top of this miserable fucking day?

"God, Lance, just go," Jesse groans, and then sighs in relief when he hears the door close. Offended or not, at least Lance won't have to watch him puke. Again. The boat pitches and rolls and Jesse curls into a ball and whimpers.

***

The sun's setting when Jesse opens his eyes and decides he feels vaguely human again. He sits up cautiously, not willing to trust that everything's back to normal. Even after getting back onto dry land, it's been a long fucking day.

Throwing up in front of other people sucks, but at least that had been over the side of a boat. Getting the dry heaves in the car, with barely enough time to open the window, was an entirely different level of mortification. Lance had been perfectly calm about it, saying, "C'mon, man, don't worry, it's no big deal," but it's still excruciating to remember.

His stomach and head finally seem to be back on speaking terms with the rest of his body, so he risks a trip to the bathroom and a much-needed reacquaintance with his toothbrush. He thinks about a shower, but standing up that long sounds like more than he can handle, so he settles for splashing some cold water on his face. The mirror isn't showing him anything good, but after everything else that's happened today, he guesses looking like shit is a minor point.

The bungalow is dark as he pads through, only the hum of the ceiling fan breaking the silence. As he's getting a bottle of water from the refrigerator, he sees a flash of motion outside, by the pool, and he opens the French doors to find Nick leaning back in a chair with his feet up on the table, guitar cradled in his lap and the last low, warm rays of the sun turning his hair even more golden.

"Nick?" Jesse says, and Nick looks up, squinting against the sun.

"It is a-live," he says mock-seriously, and plays an eerie minor chord to go with the horror movie voice.

"Where's. Um, where's Lance?" Jesse doesn't really feel up to joking.

Nick sits up, puts his feet down, and says in his regular voice, "Seriously, dude, not that you're looking great now, but you've lost that green tint so you must be doing better." He shoves a chair at Jesse with his feet. "Lance is off chasing down the last motion-sickness wristbands in the Keys."

Jesse drops into the chair and groans. "Shit. Could I be any more high-maintenance?"

"Nah, man, it was ten kinds of sweet." Nick grins at Jesse's expression. "He was all worried that you'd be getting aftershocks or something, and wouldn't be able to drive or fly. The hotel doc must have told him about those bands; they say they really do work, and the next thing I know, he's calling me up to come over here and make sure you were okay if you woke up before he got back."

Jesse vaguely remembers the hotel doctor. Deeply tanned and obscenely energetic, he'd seemed not at all upset about being pulled off the tennis court to verify that Jesse was indeed only suffering from motion sickness and mild dehydration. Then again, given what Lance is paying for this place, Jesse guesses the guy has a pretty sweet set-up and can afford to be in a good mood all the time.

"I still can't believe he called the doctor," Jesse says, sipping cautiously at his water.

Nick snorts. "You're lucky we didn't cart you over to the ER, man. If Lance hadn't told me you'd kept down some water by the time I got here, I was all for tossing you in the back of that SUV he's driving and hauling ass on up to Marathon so they could pump some fluids into you. You don't fuck around with dehydration in heat like this."

Jesse's a little surprised by Nick's vehemence--the doctor had been pretty low-key about everything. But then, Nick had been all business when they'd first gotten to the boat, handing out life-jackets and showing them both how to use the radio, and what the emergency frequency was.

He shakes his head. "I'm fine. Feeling pretty stupid, though."

Nick shrugs. "It takes some people that way."

"You ever?" It's hard to imagine. Nick had positively bounced around the boat, eager and enthusiastic and utterly confident.

Nick laughs. "Oh, fuck, yeah. I was out with Aaron once, and it got so rough, he couldn't stand up. I was about ready to tie myself to the console because I was almost as bad and somebody had to steer the damn boat. He wouldn't go out with me for months after that."

"That's your brother, yeah?" Jesse asks.

"Yeah, he's the baby of the family--though he'd kill me for saying it. The girls are in the middle, and me and Aaron are the bookends," Nick says, still playing idly on the guitar. He's wearing glasses and a cut-up t-shirt and it's one of those moments when Jesse has to remind himself that he's stumbled into a whole different world, that the guy sitting across from him isn't anything more some--remarkably gorgeous--working stiff who pays the bills however he can so he can play the coffeehouses at night.

"Bookended clones, you mean," Lance laughs from the doorway, and Jesse turns around to get a kiss brushed across his forehead. "You look better," Lance says, giving him an encouraging smile. He tosses a small bag onto the table. "I had to go all the way back up to Largo to get 'em," he says. Nick puts down his guitar and peers into the bag. "And," Lance continues, "I filled the prescription. Got both the pills and the patch, so we're good there."

As he's talking, Lance is dragging chairs around and carefully moving Jesse and getting himself settled, so that by the time he says, "Okay, so what are we going to do about dinner?" Jesse is leaning back against him in a lounge chair and feeling better than he has since he woke up that morning in a very similar position.

Nick points to Jesse and says, "Clear liquids and lots of them." Jesse feels Lance nodding behind him. Nick smiles, adding, "And you and me, Bass, we pick up the phone and call the nice lady and she brings us conch fritters straight out of the deep fryer."

Jesse bites back a laugh, because, hello, carbs _plus_ fat, and he'd love to see Lance's face right now. Lance starts to object, but Nick talks right over him.

"Vacation, Bass. You're in the Keys, you eat conch. And drink beer. Did I mention the beer?"

Lance mutters something about grilled fish and the wine cellar, but finally laughs and gives in. Nick grins triumphantly as Lance hands over the phone. Jesse's envious of their real food--he hasn't eaten in forever, it feels like--at least until it arrives and the smell starts getting to him. Then he's happy to sit there and drink the broth the kitchen provided, and watch them eat, and when Nick has a smear of hot sauce on his mouth, it's the most natural thing in the world to lean across the table and kiss it off.

After dinner, Nick makes noises about leaving, which Lance calmly ignores. They end up in the entertainment room again. _The glamorous life of pop stars_, Jesse thinks, but then again, getting away from that was exactly what he'd wanted this weekend. Plus, it's sad to admit after sleeping most of the afternoon, but he has barely enough energy to stay awake through the first half of Empire. He's trying his best to make it as far as Han getting cryo-frozen--it's one of his favorite scenes--but the next thing he knows Lance is lifting him to his feet, a strong arm around him, propping him up. "C'mon, baby. Time for bed."

"Y'don't have to..." Jesse mumbles, but he's not fully awake, and even though he doesn't like needing to be babied, at the same time it feels good, Lance being protective like this.

"Shh," Lance says, easing him onto the bed and pulling the covers over him. "Sleep. We'll be in later, 'kay?" Warm lips against his, and Jesse smiles, grateful to be able to lie peacefully, completely still, nothing but blackness behind his eyes as he falls back to sleep.

***

The sun wakes him early, and when he gets up to piss and drink some water, he's not at all surprised to see Nick lying on the other side of Lance. He looks at them a moment: Nick, dressed in nothing but ink, the sheets tangled around his hips; Lance curled toward where Jesse had been, but one leg drawn back so he and Nick are touching, too. Jesse watches them sleep, their breathing not quite synchronized, then sniffs at himself and heads for the shower. He's starving, but he's got to get clean before he can think about ordering breakfast.

He's washed his hair and is almost ready to get out when there's a draft, and then a knock on the glass door of the shower enclosure. "Hey," Nick says, a little tentatively. "Lance said for me to come in; is it..."

Jesse pushes the door open. _Lance said?_ He thinks that if he thinks about this too much, it might seem weird, so the best plan is not to think about it. "C'mon," he says, and Nick steps in.

"I'm almost done," Jesse says, stepping aside so Nick can stand under the spray. "I just need to rinse off."

Nick nods. He's gorgeous like this, wet and slick. Well, Jesse can't really think of any time he's seen Nick not gorgeous.

"Okay," Nick's saying, "I'll, here--" He's grabbing the shampoo and moving over, but getting out of the shower isn't seeming like such a priority to Jesse right this minute, not with all that golden skin conveniently positioned at perfect kissing level. "Oh," Nick says, when Jesse scrapes teeth over his shoulder, following with tongue and lips. "I--shit, yeah..."

Jesse's back is flat against the wall, cool marble behind him and hot hot Nick in front, Jesse's fingers tangled in Nick's soapy hair, their hips sliding together in time with their tongues, when the latch clicks open again. A low chuckle, and Lance says, "Mmm. Now that's a show worth getting up for."

Nick flips Lance off without breaking the kiss or the rhythm of his hips grinding into Jesse's. Lance laughs again, and presses up close against Nick's back, doing something Jesse can't see that has Nick groaning.

Jesse pulls away from Nick's mouth long enough to say, "We're turning him on with the getting clean and making out, Carter. Multi-tasking makes him hot."

Nick snorts, but before he can answer, Lance purrs, "I'm really fucking good at it, too," and he's jerking them both off, one soapy hand working their cocks in a slick, lazy rhythm.

Nick drops his head back against Lance, panting harshly. Jesse can't resist tasting the line of his throat; it's too perfect to pass up. He likes seeing Nick like this, so caught up in pleasure that he can't even speak. When he looks over Nick's shoulder and sees the same appreciation in Lance's eyes, he's not sure what it means, but he's not surprised. It's something to think about, and maybe talk about--later, much later, because right now, it's all he can do to hold on to Nick and moan.

***

Lance leaves Jesse and Nick breathless and shaking and barely able to stand. By the time they dry off and find clothes, the Muffin Lady (who'd probably give all of them what-for if she ever learned Nick's name for her) has been and gone, having outdone herself this morning. Muffins, of course, and eggs scrambled with chevre and herbs; blueberry pancakes and applewood-smoked sausage. Plus fruit and grits and biscuits with country ham and red-eye gravy.

Breakfast is quiet, but not uncomfortable. Nick is lazy; Lance, self-satisfied; and Jesse, frankly, is too busy eating to make conversation. He starts off with dry toast, but then, grits are bland, and when all his stomach says is more, he's happy to sample everything else.

The sky's overcast and thunder grumbles in the distance. It's a vacation, as Nick pointedly reminds Lance, so they pull out Return of the Jedi and finish watching the original trilogy while they pick at the last few scraps on the serving dishes. Nick's on the floor with his back against the couch, while Lance stretches out with his head in Jesse's lap. Lance snorts every time there's an added scene, and Nick mutters darkly about not having the damn movies on DVD yet. Jesse controls access to the muffin basket, feeding Nick and Lance in turn, and the occasional quick flicker of a tongue across his fingers goes a long way toward distracting him from the general annoyance of the Ewoks.

When the screen irises in on the final scene of everyone with the ghosts of Anakin and Yoda, Nick stretches, saying, "I gotta roll."

Lance sits up. "Your call. You're more than welcome to stay."

Jesse looks at the still-dark sky. "It doesn't look like great weather to be out on the water." The idea alone is enough to make him shudder.

Nick shoves his feet into his shoes and shrugs. "Yeah, but I gotta go get her ready to ride out whatever shit those clouds are gonna throw at us, look at what the offshore weather buoy is saying. If this is gonna blow over, I need to get started back up to Marathon, and if it's not, I need to get her at least over to the big marina so I can dock her and rent a car and get back home that way."

Lance nods, and Jesse gets the impression he's missed part of the story. Lance calls the main building for a cab while Nick collects keys and wallet and guitar. Jesse doesn't know what to do or say, and ends up standing around feeling fairly useless. He thinks they're supposed to be playing this cool and casual, sort of Hey, man, thanks for hanging out and fucking us stupid, have a nice life, but when the cab's outside and Nick stops in front of him, he's pulled into the hottest, dirtiest goodbye kiss he's ever had the pleasure of receiving. Lance gets one, too, and appears to have the presence of mind to give as good as he gets, and then Nick's gone and the bungalow is quiet except for the music over the closing credits of the movie.

Jesse watches the last names roll across the screen, more for something to do than out of any interest in the second assistant wardrobe mistress, but when they're done he's no closer to knowing what to say than he was before. Fortunately, Lance isn't suffering from any such hesitancy. Strong arms slide around Jesse from behind, and Lance brushes his lips over Jesse's ear. "You feelin' okay?" he asks quietly.

Jesse nods, relaxing into Lance's touch. "Yeah, I'm fine. Really. You'll have to use a gun to get me on a boat again anytime soon--" Lance snorts softly, "but I'm fine today. No complaints."

"I'm glad to hear that." Another soft kiss, and Jesse turns now, wanting a real kiss and getting one, sweet and deep and slow. Jesse kisses him back with everything that's in his heart, and Lance makes a surprised sort of sound, but doesn't object.

They end up on the couch, Lance on his back with Jesse on top of him, pressed together kissing and kissing. "Wow," Lance says when Jesse decides it's time to explore the pleasures of Lance's throat rather than only his mouth. "Um. What brought this on?" He chuckles. "I mean, so I can do it again. Frequently."

Jesse smiles, licking at Lance's skin. "Do I need a reason to want to make out with my incredibly sexy boyfriend?"

"No," Lance admits, shivering when Jesse bites his collarbone. "Please, feel free anytime."

Jesse knows what Lance meant, though. He just doesn't want to answer, not right this minute. Doesn't know how, really. I want the reassurance sounds wrong, too needy. And he had a blast with Nick. Not only when they were fucking, either, which was unexpected. Nice, but unexpected.

For now, he focuses on making Lance groan, making him sigh and shudder and flex his fingers on Jesse's shoulders. He works his way lower slowly, savoring every slide of his tongue over Lance's skin, the two of them working together to tug Lance's shirt up and off when it gets in the way. Their weekend's almost over; they've got a long trip ahead of them, but they have time for this.

***

Sure enough, when he's done turning Lance boneless, and Lance has very thoroughly returned the favor, Jesse only gets to close his eyes for a couple of minutes before Lance rolls to his feet and pulls him up too. "C'mon, sleepyhead. You can rest in the car, but if we want to make our flight, we'd better get moving."

Jesse actually has no objections to missing the flight. He knows Lance doesn't have any morning appointments scheduled. But Lance on a mission is not to be denied, and there's no good reason to argue about it. Once he's up he's not that tired anyway; he just wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to this place, this weekend.

It only takes a few minutes to get their things together and throw them in the car. The Muffin Lady shows up at their door as they're doing a last check-around for stray belongings, and Jesse smiles a question at Lance. "I called for a box lunch," Lance replies. "No sense in eating drive-thru food when we can get this, right? And you really missed out yesterday; the sandwiches were amazing." He smiles at the woman, who's blushing madly, and Jesse's not surprised to see a hundred-dollar bill change hands as Lance takes the food from her.

It's nice, taking a little bit of this place with them as they head for the causeway. Makes it feel like the weekend isn't really over yet, which is an extra gift. "Thank you," Jesse says, when they come to a stop at a signal. There's a car coming the other way, so he can't lean over and kiss Lance the way he'd like to, but he can reach out and rest a hand on his thigh, squeeze gently. "I couldn't have asked for a better birthday present. Okay, without the throwing up--" as Lance turns to him, his mouth quirking at one corner, "--but seriously. This was... so much more than I expected. Not that I didn't expect it to be great, y'know?" He doesn't know what he's trying to say. "It was so special. Being here, just us."

They're moving again, and Lance is watching the road. He purses his lips a moment, then says, "Just the two of us, you mean? Or...?"

Jesse keeps his own eyes on the road, and it's a long time before he answers. "I," he starts, then takes a deep breath. "Well, you-and-me us, of course, but." Another breath. "I don't know. The other, too."

Nick was around for less than forty-eight hours, and Jesse's surprised at how he's made a place for himself. Not between them--Jesse feels closer to Lance than he ever has. More like... among them.

Jesse looks over at Lance. "They were both good."

Lance nods. "Yeah," he agrees. The rain finally sweeps in from the Gulf, and the rest of the trip up US 1 is wet and windy. Jesse fools with the radio and CDs, and they talk idly about what's on the schedule for the next week. The sandwiches are, as Lance promised, fantastic.

Lance's cell rings right as they're crossing the bridge at Key Biscayne, and Lance glances at the display, then hands it to Jesse to answer. It's Nick, and Jesse's unreasonably happy to hear his voice. Nick's driving; he says he's on the road behind them, that the front was too slow-moving for him to wait it out. Lance nods thoughtfully when Jesse relays the message, and then says, "We talked some last night, after you passed out on us."

He smiles for a second, and Jesse suppresses the urge to ask what else might have happened after he went to sleep. Lance continues, "There's some stuff going on with his family, with Aaron, and he was taking the weekend to get his head clear before diving into it. He didn't really say all that much, but I got the feeling it could get nasty."

Patsy Cline croons quietly on the mix CD; when she's finished Lance says, "I think we were good for him," and Jesse wonders if he should reply, but he can't really think what the right thing to say would be, so he just smiles and watches the wipers slice the rain.

***

The flight, thankfully, isn't delayed by the weather--and, even more thankfully, there's not much turbulence, though Lance has every anti-nausea remedy known to man at the ready, just in case--but even so, by the time they get back to LA, then rescue the car and drive back to the house, it's been a really long day. Jesse's dragging as he walks inside, not so much sad or even all that tired as simply a little let-down that their getaway is over, but he barely gets the door closed before Lance is on him, has him up against the wall, mouth and hands hungry and possessive. Jesse's not imagining anything this time; this is Lance staking his claim, marking what's his, and something deep inside Jesse responds in kind. It's rough and hard and fast, so out of control Jesse barely recognizes himself. It's all he can do to find the strip of condoms in his duffel and brace himself against the door before Lance is in him. No prep, no stretching, nothing more than spit and the lube from the condom, and as overwhelming as it is, Jesse wants more, wants everything Lance has got. He's not begging, he's demanding, and Lance gives him what he wants; takes him again and again and again, until Jesse can't see or breathe or think.

When it's over, and Jesse is sprawled out on the floor, bruised and aching and sore, with Lance heavy on top of him, still buried deep inside him, both of them sticky with sweat and come and maybe tears, Lance says softly, hoarsely, "You're amazing."

It would be good if Jesse could answer, return the compliment, because Lance is, and this is all so very much more than he ever expected, but the best he can do is some sort of wordless noise. Lance hears everything he wants to say in it, though; Jesse can tell from the way Lance melts into him.

Jesse's happy to stay right there on the floor, because actually having to move sounds incredibly unappealing. Lance finally shifts off him, mumbles something about getting cleaned up, and God, Jesse's still fully dressed, didn't even manage to kick his shoes off. Lance is stripping out of his own clothes as he walks--unsteadily, Jesse is happy to see--toward the bathroom.

After a moment or two, Jesse makes himself follow, and life doesn't bear thinking about for a few minutes, but then he's in bed and Lance is draped over him, and no, he's probably not going to be able to move without wincing the next day, but that's entirely beside the point. Lance is purring under his hand, and Jesse can ask, because it really doesn't matter now, "Last night? What happened with you and Nick after I crashed?"

Lance is warm and relaxed against him. "We talked, gossip and stuff, people we both know, and we made out a little, and he let that stuff slip about his family." Lance looks up. "It felt, I don't know, sort of right. Comfortable."

Jesse nods, because that's exactly what he's been thinking about pretty much everything that happened with Nick, or at least everything that didn't involve the deck of a boat. "You should call him tomorrow, make sure he got back okay." What he means is more like, _Don't let him forget about us_, and he's pretty sure Lance understands.


	4. Interlude: CFTC - July 2003

**July 17, 2003**

Lance loves Challenge. He loves the parties, he loves the shmoozing, he loves the excitement. Okay, he could do without the basketball, but heck, nothing's perfect. And this year's even better than usual, because (a) he's going to prank the hell out of Joey, and (b) Jesse's with him--and that makes _everything_ better.

They get in on Thursday, and head down to the VIP pool to hang out. The official parties don't start for another day, so this is casual, catching up with the Fatones, saying hi to Bev. Joey says they're going to Crobar that night, which is fine by Lance. It's all good. Life is almost _too_ good. He thinks, belatedly, that he should've gotten Nick put on the invite list, but that probably would have been a little weird.

Chris and JC show up later in the afternoon--not together; Chris doesn't seem to be "together" with anyone these days, and that's upsetting, but it's not something any of them seem to be able to do anything about--and Lance pretty much only sees each of them to wave to before heading up to the room for some pre-clubbing sex and sustenance. According to Joey, Justin said he'd meet them at Crobar later, but Lance isn't betting big money on it.

The DJ at the club is... pretty bad. But the drinks are good. And the first prank is already under way, back at the hotel, which makes Lance grin every time he spies Joey. Jesse's dancing with a couple of girls, which is fun to watch, and Lance is sitting back, wondering what he did to deserve this, even for a minute, when JC slides in next to him. "Hey," JC says, hugging him. Scent of pot and clean sweat, overlaid with Hpnotiq, and Lance hugs him back warmly. "I didn't get to talk to you earlier, man, how you doing?"

"Great," Lance says. "I'm hearing good buzz on your music, that's gotta feel good."

JC grins. "Yeah, it's cool. Long way to go, y'know, but it's good, I'm happy with it."

Lance nods, sipping his drink, watching the people ebb and flow. Keeping an eye on Jesse, because it's fun. What with the noise level in the club, it takes him a minute to realize JC's talking to him again. "What?"

JC laughs. "I said, it's good to see you. I was hoping, y'know, we could hang out some this weekend. Catch up."

Lance smiles. "Sure, I'd like that. I mean, as much as we have any free time, right? But yeah, absolutely."

Joey dances by, conga-ing with at least four girls, and tries to pull JC and Lance in with them. JC manages to extricate himself after only a few feet, but Lance is laughing too hard to complain, and by the time the group breaks up, he's clear on the other side of the club. He finds a fresh drink and starts making his way back toward where he last saw Jesse, but it's slow going, what with running into new arrivals every few steps. Eventually, though, he spies Jesse's profile and changes course in that direction, and the next couple of hours pass in a blur of music and friends and whatever the bartender is pouring. He makes sure to drag Jesse into a few dark hallways--discreetly, of course--because he knows Jess won't be expecting any kind of public contact. It takes Jesse less than no time to communicate how appreciative he is, and his enthusiasm added to the extra surge of adrenaline from actually taking the risk has Lance's expectations for the night sky-high.

Sometime around 1:30, he steps out a side door to cool down and clear his head from the noise and the smoke and the liquor, and nearly runs into JC when he turns around to go back in.

JC catches his arm and steadies him, saying, "Sorry, sorry, you took me off guard; I didn't expect you to be bolting back inside."

"No problem," Lance answers. "You okay? I know that was your foot I stepped on and, seriously, C, someday you're gonna have to stop wearing sandals to clubs or you're gonna lose a toe."

"Nah, I'm fine, man," JC answers. "I just...I was kinda hoping we could talk a little more. Like, where we can hear each other."

"Now?" It's dark, but from what Lance can see, JC is serious. Not drunk-serious--JC actually looks a lot more sober than Lance would have expected at this time of night. Certainly more sober than Lance is, although Lance has been pacing himself; he doesn't want to be too far gone when he and Jesse get back to the hotel. When JC nods, Lance says, "Yeah, sure. Of course." JC moves over a bit, further away from the doorway and out of the line of sight of anyone else who might happen to wander out, and Lance automatically follows.

"Thanks," JC says. "So, um, I--I've been thinking about a lot of stuff lately. Kind of an occupational hazard of writing the album, y'know?" Lance nods encouragingly, wondering at the same time when he last saw JC so off-balance. "I, uh, never got to really thank you for introducing me at Wango Tango. It meant a lot to me."

"It meant a lot that you asked."

JC smiles at him, but then hesitates again before taking a deep breath and going on. "I'm just gonna say this, okay? I miss you." He reaches out and takes Lance's hand. "I know we said we weren't going put ourselves through it all over again, but, God, Lance. It still feels wrong not to be with you. And I was thinking, everything's different now; maybe we could..."

"JC," Lance whispers, the evening's pleasant buzz draining away. He shudders, clammy suddenly in the damp heat, and fights the urge to pull his hand back. How many times did he lie awake in a bus or a hotel or, hell, even in the tiny, always freezing flat in Russia, and pray for this conversation to happen? And now, _now_ it's happening for real? He'd laugh if he wasn't so close to crying. "I--I--God, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I can't."

JC is very, very still. Lance forces his voice to remain calm. "I'm sorry, C. So sorry, you don't even know..." He shakes his head. "I never expected it to happen, but I--Jesse and I... we fell in love."

"Oh." JC looks at him for an endless minute, then nods and says quietly, "Okay, yeah, maybe that's not really a surprise, now that I let myself see things." His hand tightens on Lance's before he lets go and says, "So, you're happy? It's good?"

"Yeah," Lance says. He still feels slightly sick, but... yeah. It's better than good.

"That's great," JC answers. "It's--I'm... Good."

"C--" Lance starts, because what JC said earlier, that it still felt wrong for them not to be together, Lance _knows_. Even with Jesse, he knows and understands.

"Nah, man," JC interrupts. "It's--I'm glad you're happy. Really. I'm just gonna... Chris. Chris said he'd ride with me back to the hotel, so I should probably... and, y'know, I'll see you around, tomorrow." He's gone before Lance can say anything more.

Lance stays outside long enough for his heart to stop pounding, his hands to stop shaking. When he goes back in, he finds Jesse as quickly as he can, and they're outside waiting for a car as soon as he's confident they won't end up in the same one with Chris and JC. Jesse's clearly curious, but he doesn't ask and Lance doesn't volunteer, staring fixedly out the SUV window as the driver makes his way through the impossible South Beach traffic.

Tomorrow Challenge starts for real. Tomorrow the cameras'll be rolling and the fans will be everywhere and he'll be on display every minute, and he'll deal with that, he will. But right now, he needs one night to be with Jesse, just the two of them, and then--he hopes--he'll be able to deal with what comes after making the choice he never thought he'd be offered.


	5. Los Angeles -- July-August 2003

**July-August, 2003**

"Hey, man, take a break, come hang with us for a couple of days."

Jesse didn't hear the beginning of the conversation, so it takes him a few seconds to figure out who Lance is talking to. "I know. I know, it sucks," Lance continues. "But he's--he _does_ know you're there for him. Of course he does. You've always been there for him, and you always will be. _I_ know that, and Aaron knows you about a million times better than I do."

Oh. Jesse finds himself smiling, even though by the sound of the conversation whatever's going on with Nick is nothing to smile about.

Lance notices him standing in the doorway, and smiles back but keeps on talking. Jackson wanders in, as he tends to do when Lance is talking to anyone but him, and Jesse picks him up, ruffling his ears while they both listen to Lance. "Fine, don't be sure, just book a plane ticket. You're not doing yourself or anyone else any good there right now, and if something comes up and Aaron needs you, you can get to him from LA as easily as you can from Marathon. Probably easier." His voice softens, goes from warm-and-friendly to something more intimate than that. "Besides, Jesse misses you." A pause and a chuckle. "No, you fucker, I'm perfectly capable and you know it. Yes, I will be glad to prove it, just get your ass out here... Good. Let us know the flight number and one or both of us will be there to get you. Shut up, I know that."

He hangs up and tilts his head at Jesse. "Hope that's okay with you. I should have asked, but he sounds--"

"Of course it's okay," Jesse says. They've talked about inviting Nick to visit--or more than visit, though they never went into a lot of detail about exactly what that might mean. And even if they hadn't, things have been... odd since they've gotten back from Miami. Something clearly went down while they were at Challenge. Lance hasn't said anything, and Jesse's pretty sure nothing's really _wrong_, but at the same time he can't help but think it's good--for both of them, really--to have something, someone, different to focus on. "Things are still pretty bad with his family, huh?"

"Jesus, his mom is..." Jesse hears the polite Southern boy that Lance was raised to be struggling for the right words. "She's a real piece of work." Lance shakes his head. "I can't imagine how tough it was for Nick, joining Backstreet when he was twelve. I was nearly seventeen, and that was hard enough. But at the same time, I have to think--getting away from Jane, he may have been better off. Aaron doesn't have that luxury."

Twelve. Jesse can't really wrap his mind around that. Twelve was sixth grade, GameBoys and struggling with pre-algebra, not leaving home and traveling around the world singing to screaming crowds. Sometimes he feels like he'll never _really_ understand this life Lance leads. Understand Lance, or Nick.

But Lance is standing close to him, touching his arm and breathing soft against his lips, careful not to squash Jackson. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Jesse shakes his head. "Not a good investment." He leans forward the fraction of an inch it takes to bring their mouths together. "You think he'll come soon?"

"I don't know. I hope so. He really sounds like he needs to get away, you know?"

"No," Jesse admits. "But I believe you. And you're right, I'd love to see him. It was... really good, the three of us."

If all they wanted was a willing third, they could find that without crossing Sunset. Probably a fourth, fifth, and sixth, too. They've even talked about it, some, obliquely, since the Keys. In theory, yeah, hot as hell, but neither of them has ever made a move to make it come together in reality, and Jesse's pretty sure that mostly has to do with things that are completely non-sexual.

Lance smiles and pulls Jesse down for a kiss. "Here's hoping we can convince him of that."

***

Nick had wanted to stop and get some dinner on the way from the airport, and when he suggested it Jesse thought it sounded like a good idea, but now he's not so sure. Nick's quiet, but it's not an easy quiet, and he's drinking steadily. Lance notices it, too, and is easing them out of the restaurant as soon as they're done with their entrees, but when Jesse thinks a moment, he realizes Nick's already put away a startling amount of alcohol. Nick seems perfectly fine, and that worries Jesse even more. By rights, he should be close to passing out, but he's standing steady between Jesse and Lance, waiting for the valet to bring the car around.

He's not himself, either. Or, rather, he's not the Nick Jesse remembers from the Keys. That Nick was open and friendly, the kind of guy who'd never, as far as Jesse could see, met a stranger. That Nick's laughs were almost giggles, strangely light and shivery for a man of his size, uniquely Nick in Jesse's memory. This Nick smiles politely with his mouth but not his eyes and has a mile-high wall between him and the rest of the world.

He asks all the right questions about what they've been doing lately, and has ready answers for the questions they ask in turn, but there's, well, there's no Nick there. Just a big good-looking blond guy who pushes his steak around his plate and makes sure the waiter knows to bring him a fresh beer every time he stops to check on their table.

Jesse keeps quiet in the car, even when Nick says something about hitting some clubs, maybe the Viper Room. The old Nick was easy to talk to, but now Jesse feels... out of place. He catches Lance's eye in the rear view mirror and shakes his head, because even if he doesn't know what to say, there's no way going out is a good idea.

Lance says smoothly, "Nah, man, nothing much is happening tonight. Even LA takes a break once in a while."

Nick looks at Lance for a long time, but finally shrugs and says, "Yeah. Whatever."

The rest of the trip is silent, and again, there's nothing comfortable about it. But even that's not as bad as Nick's forced cheer when they get to the house. Lance introduces him to Jackson and starts to show him around the place, but Nick's cell rings before they get out of the kitchen.

Nick looks at the display and says, "Aaron," and steps into the hall to talk, leaving Jesse and Lance to stare at each other helplessly. Lance takes a deep breath and starts filling glasses with ice. Jesse recognizes the keep-busy tactic and knows even before he puts his hand on Lance's shoulder that every muscle in his back will be tight. Lance stops for a second and leans into him.

Jesse whispers, "No, it wasn't a mistake." This isn't shaping up to be a fun evening, but Jesse thinks about the Nick who gave up part of his vacation to sit around just in case Jesse might need something--the Nick who played guitar out by the pool in Florida and told stories on himself to try to make Jesse feel better, the Nick who threatened to hold Lance down and force-feed him if he mentioned calories one more time, and who did a scary-good Emperor Palpatine imitation--and reminds himself that some things are worth the effort. Lance smiles a little and Jesse brushes a kiss behind his ear. "Stop with the second-guessing and let's figure out what to do about it."

Nick comes back into the room right then, his face stony and mouth hard for a second before the mask comes back down. He accepts his Coke quietly but jumps when Lance asks, "How's Aaron?"

"Oh, he's fine." Nick laughs, short and ugly. "My mother is fucking insane," he adds conversationally, and Jesse realizes that yes, Nick is very, very drunk. He can see it now in the not-quite-steady hand, and in how the blue eyes don't really focus. "But Aaron? Aaron's fine. He just told me that. Want to know what else he told me, Lance?"

"Sure, Nick." Lance is treading carefully, but he's clearly as relieved as Jesse that Nick's given up the act.

"He told me," Nick starts, then has to take a deep breath. "He said, 'Yeah, I know it's all fucked up, but I gotta be a pro, man. Play the dates like they're booked.'" Jesse watches Nick's hand tighten around the glass he's holding. "Want to know why he thinks that?" With a sudden quick whip of his arm, Nick throws the full tumbler straight at the rows of wine glasses hanging from the overhead rack. Jackson yips and flees as glass shatters in every direction, raining over the counter and onto the floor along with ice cubes and fizzing rivulets of Coke.

Jesse can't help flinching, but Lance doesn't so much as blink. "Why?" His voice is calm and Jesse is incredibly proud of him.

Nick's shaking now, holding on to the edge of the counter. He shakes his head, and Lance prompts him again. "Why, Nick?"

Jesse edges closer, staying in Nick's range of vision so he doesn't startle him. Lance glances at him, then looks back at Nick, holding his eyes steadily.

Nick's voice is soft and slurred when he finally says, "Because I told him that, every time we talked. For years. That was the reason why I couldn't be around, couldn't spend time with him. From the time he was three fucking years old, I told him that. And now, when my mother has him so over-booked he doesn't know which end is up, he thinks it's what he has to do, and that, that's not her fault, it's mine."

Jesse grabs Nick as he sinks to the floor, but he's not falling; it's more like he can't find the energy to stand anymore. Lance crouches down in front of them and says in the same calm voice, "No. No, it's not." Nick shakes his head but Lance won't let him talk. "It is _not_ your fault, Nick. You and I both know the crap that goes on in the industry, but that's not what this is about. You can't hold yourself responsible--you were a kid then, man, and even now, you have no legal rights here. You can't stop it, no matter how much you want to. All you can do is keep pushing back and be there for Aaron."

Nick doesn't say anything, but Jesse feels him slowly relax. He wraps his arms tighter around Nick and murmurs, "And you can't do anything more tonight. It's nearly three on the East Coast, you have to be exhausted."

Lance nods. "Yeah, c'mon. Bed, okay?"

Nick had never really gone all the way down to the floor, had only sat back on his heels, so it's not too much of a problem getting him back up. Both knees crack, though, and right after, so do Lance's. Nick laughs, and if it's not quite the giggle Jesse remembers, it's so much better than the fake smiles he doesn't care. "Fucking choreographers."

"May they burn in hell," Lance answers, and they solemnly bump fists.

Jesse rolls his eyes, and together he and Lance steer Nick up the stairs to the master suite. When they get up there, Jackson's huddled in his basket, trying to hide under the pillows. He looks miserable, and Jesse doesn't have any attention to spare for him, but at least he's not downstairs walking in broken glass.

There's a tense minute or two when they're trying to get Nick out of his shoes, at least, and he seems to get a second wind, standing up from where they've parked him on the bed and trying, abortively, to pace, or head back downstairs, or God knows what. But finally Nick's curled on the bed with Lance behind him, petting his hair and talking to him quietly. Jesse watches them for a minute. Things are calm now, but he goes and puts a new liner in the bathroom trash can and parks it by the bed, catching Lance's eye to make sure he's aware of it.

Lance nods but doesn't move from where he's lying, and Jesse makes a gesture toward the door. The cleaning staff won't be in until Monday, unless he makes a special call--which he could do easily enough; for Lance, they'd probably be there within the hour. Cleaning seems like something tangible he can do, though, so he heads downstairs and starts by picking up the large shards, then follows with damp paper towels to track down the rest of the glinting fragments and the soda. The floor first; then he swabs the fronts of the cabinets, then the countertop and the sink. There are half a dozen broken stems hanging from the rack, and he places them in the trash along with the rest of the debris. It's quiet work, and by the time he's done he still has no fucking clue what to do to help Nick, but at least he doesn't feel quite as on-edge himself anymore.

All's quiet upstairs as well, and Lance turns slightly to give him a half-smile when he steps into the room. Nick's passed out, and Jesse hopes he stays that way the rest of the night. When Jesse's done in the bathroom, he leaves that light on, just in case, and slides gingerly in behind Lance, trying not to move the bed any more than he has to.

"It's okay," Lance whispers, shifting over a little to kiss Jesse. "I think he's down for the count."

"I hope so," Jesse replies, then hopes that doesn't sound awful. But Lance chuckles softly and kisses him again, so probably it didn't. Or if it did, it was an understandable awful, or something. "He doesn't really think that, does he? What he said about it being his fault."

Lance sighs. "I think he does. I don't know whether it's just him or if it's something that's been said to him, but yeah, I think he blames himself."

Jesse can't really say anything back, because if he opens his mouth he's not going to be able to shut it. Twelve, Lance had said. For crying out loud. Not even junior high, and Jesse absolutely needs to stop thinking about this or he's never going to get any sleep.

***

Awful is back with a vengeance sometime before dawn, when Nick starts making coughing sounds. Lance rolls into action, but not in time to keep Nick from puking on the sheets and on himself. Lance curses softly and puts a shoulder under Nick's arm to get him up and moving toward the bathroom; Jesse turns on a light, wincing, and sets to stripping the bed. Teamwork, he thinks. At least the carpet's still clean; that's something to be thankful for. He hears the toilet flush, and then the shower go on. _So_ much fun.

When the bed's remade (not as neatly as the maids do it, but well enough to sleep in), Jesse pokes his head into the bathroom. Nick's soiled clothes are in a heap on the floor and Nick's slumped in the tub, eyes closed, wet but thankfully clean; Lance is sitting on the edge, almost as wet and looking like he's ready to fall over. "Need a hand?" Jesse asks, and Lance turns, nodding gratefully.

"Please. I think he weighs about six tons right now."

Lance is exaggerating, but not by much. Nick's not belligerent anymore, but he's so out of it it's almost scary. It takes both of them, braced against whatever's handy, to get him out of the tub. They don't want to let him sit again, so they barely take the time to pat him dry before heading, step by slow step, back to the bedroom. If the sheets are damp, the sheets are damp; they can live with that.

Once they're all arranged in the bed, with Nick once again nearest the bathroom, even though it didn't help much the first time, Lance shifts around to kiss Jesse. "Please, God, let him sleep the rest of the night," Lance murmurs.

"And please let him wake up eventually," Jesse adds.

"He'll be okay. I've seen Chris worse," Lance says. "And Joey. And, hell, I can't really talk." Neither can Jesse, if he thinks about all the Sugar Bowls he's gone to. "But I wish I'd thought to invite him out here sooner. Not, y'know, that he'd necessarily have come."

Jesse nods; he's actually surprised that Nick came now. "Well, we'll see what's up tomorrow." Lance relaxes against him and Jesse lets himself fall asleep.

***

Lance has a breakfast meeting, so he's up and showered and looking very Hollywood by the time Jesse manages to pry his eyes open. At the far edge of the bed, Nick's still breathing deeply and steadily, but shows no other signs of movement, and if he can sleep the worst of this off, Jesse isn't going to complain. Lance leans down and ghosts little touches right over the ticklish patch under Jesse's ribs until Jesse gives up trying to sleep and swats his hands away. As soon as he reacts, Lance kisses him and slides his hands down under the covers. Hips, thighs, ass--Jesse's gasping by the time Lance stops.

"I shouldn't be long," Lance says, biting at Jesse's collarbone. "I just have to show up and prove I actually have a brain. The real meeting isn't until next week." Jesse groans as Lance works his way down his chest, a trail of quick nips that ends with Jesse's nipple between Lance's teeth, and his own hand sliding up Lance's thigh. "God, you're sexy in the morning," Lance growls. "If I had fifteen more minutes..."

"Ten would work for me," Jesse pants.

"I don't even have five," Lance says, and stands up. Jesse sighs, and palms his dick under the sheet, giving back a little of the tease. Lance laughs and brushes a quick kiss--no hands this time--over Jesse's mouth. "Hold that thought," he says, smirking, and Jesse winces, forcing himself to stop. God forbid he should encourage the awful puns Lance is so fond of.

"Take care of our boy," Lance says, nodding to where Nick's still sleeping. "I'll make it as quick as I can, okay?"

"Yeah," Jesse says. "We'll be fine." He sits up to give Lance a proper goodbye kiss.

"I know you will," Lance says, and picks up his keys and sunglasses. "Let Jackson in when you get up; he's in the back yard."

Jesse sits there for a bit after Lance leaves, but it's too early to be seriously thinking about waking up for good, so he slides closer to Nick and relaxes into the warmth.

***

Jesse sleeps himself out, but even after he showers and gets dressed Nick still isn't moving. Jesse lets Jackson in and gets sad-eyed into giving him a few more crunchies, glances at email and the paper, eats breakfast and calls his mom, and still no Nick. He's thinking about hitting the lap pool, to get that out of the way before Lance gets home, when he finally hears the shower start upstairs. The fresh coffee's just finished brewing when Nick shows up at the kitchen door.

Jesse eyes him critically, but aside from being sheet-white, Nick looks better this morning than he had the night before. "Hey," Jesse says. "What can I get you?"

Nick shakes his head, then winces. Jesse smiles sympathetically. "Coffee? Water? Toast? Drugs? All of the above?"

"Okay... yeah," Nick croaks.

Jesse's got the water and the ibuprofen ready, and puts bread in the toaster while he pours two cups of coffee. Nick swallows down a handful of the pills and works his way steadily through the bottle of water, finishing it off before he starts nibbling slowly at the toast and risks a sip of coffee.

Jesse's about to ask how he's feeling--not to mention suggest he take a seat rather than propping up the counter all day--when Lance walks in the back door, taking off his sunglasses and saying, a little brusquely, "Sorry, meeting took longer than I expected. Was there a reason there was a cab waiting? Because I gave him a fifty and told him there was a change in plans."

Nick closes his eyes, and his knuckles whiten around the coffee cup. Jesse can't help glancing at the decimated rack above the counter, but Nick doesn't seem to have any fight in him this morning. "Fuck, man," Nick says. "You shouldn't've done that. Just let it go."

"Let what go?" Lance asks. "You?" He sounds pissy, but nowhere near as angry as Jesse's starting to feel.

"Yeah," Nick answers, chin coming up. "You don't need to pretend, okay?"

"Pretend what?" Jesse says. He has a pretty good idea what Nick's going to say, but he wants to hear it anyway.

"C'mon, Jess, don't play this game. Please?"

At that, Jesse grits his teeth. "Make up your mind. Do we know each other well enough for pet names, or are you running back to Florida or wherever, without even being here long enough for a decent hello?"

Nick makes an abortive gesture with his hand. He looks at Lance, but Lance waits silently, and finally Nick sighs and says, "You invited me into your home, and I acted like an ass. You don't have to do the good manners thing and make like you still want me around, like you don't care what I did."

"Don't care?" Jesse snaps. "Don't care about what? You think we care more about a dozen wineglasses than about you? Thanks a fuck of a lot, it's nice that you think we're that shallow." It's not really about them, he knows that, but dammit...

"It wasn't just the glasses," Nick mumbles.

Lance jumps in before Jesse can answer, and, okay, maybe he was getting a little loud there; he'll let Lance take this one. "No, you're right, you weren't a hell of a lot of fun last night, but if you think a couple loads of laundry's going to get us to throw you out, _I'll_ think you're still drunk." Lance's voice is gentle, teasing, but his eyes are serious. "Like Jesse said, or was trying to say--" he flashes a grin at Jesse, who rolls his eyes, because he wasn't that incoherent, "--it's not that big of a deal."

"Stop. It," Nick grinds out. "I should have known not to come in the first place, but just because you invited me doesn't mean you're stuck with me. Stop trying to make the best of it. I can go hang with some people I know in town; it's okay."

"So that _is_ what you think of us. Is that what you thought when I got sick on the boat? That Lance should ditch me because I was spoiling the day? And now, what, I had fresh coffee waiting for you when you got up because I was hoping you'd take the hint and go?" Jesse's so mad he's literally not seeing straight. Everything's a little blurry and the blood is pounding in his head. "Of course we want you around, you ass. We're fucking worried sick about you--maybe we weren't as worried as we should have been before you got here, but we damn well are now. Maybe this is too complex a concept for you to understand, but we invited you because we _care_ about you, and goddamn it, it sure as hell looks like it's time for you to let somebody do that."

His hands are shaking and he knows Lance is probably giving him that, _Okay, settle down now_ look, but damn. _Damn_. He turns and carefully puts his still-full mug of coffee in the sink. "I'm going for a run before I start breaking things myself," he says, then looks straight at Nick. "Be here when I get back."

***

An hour later he's winded, and sweaty, and he no longer wants to smack Nick into next week. On the whole, he thinks these are all good things. Coming back, he detours around the side of the house instead of going in the front door, the thought of the pool too inviting to pass up, and stops mid-taking-shoe-off-hop when he realizes Lance is already swimming laps and Nick's sprawled on one of the lounge chairs, apparently asleep again.

It's more of a relief than he expected. He hadn't actually been worried that Lance would let Nick go, but still. He finishes kicking his shoes and socks off as he crosses the lawn and dives in without breaking stride.

Two easy laps and really, all he wanted to do was cool off; he pushed himself pretty hard in the run. So he parks himself at one end of the pool and watches Lance swim, efficient strokes and clean flip-turns, up and back and up and back.

It's not too long before Lance pulls up next to him, shaking his head to dry off a little. "Good run?"

Jesse nods. "You been out here long?"

"Mmm. Not too long after you left. We talked, some. I think I got it through his skull that you weren't making shit up, we really do want him here. And we talked a little more about Aaron, but really, I kinda think he needs some time off from that, more than he needs to talk about it. So I figured I'd come out here and make sure you don't trade me in on a sleeker model."

"As if." Jesse gives in to the urge to lick Lance's jaw where the water's dripping. "There's no other model I want, and you know it."

Lance purrs, tilting his head. "What about that one over there?"

Jesse kisses him before answering, both to figure out his words and because he wants to. "That's not a trade-in," he says, nuzzling Lance's mouth. "That's... um. Filling out the garage?"

Lance laughs. "I think we may have pushed that metaphor as far as we should. But yeah." He slides in closer to Jesse, fitting their bodies together, and kisses him in a way that needs no explanation at all. "I know what you mean. Now we have to convince him."

Jesse rocks against Lance, reminded of what they started and didn't finish before Lance's meeting. "Can we convince him later?" he asks. He's only half-kidding. He suspects they shouldn't be leaving Nick alone, not yet, even if he looks like he's going to be sound asleep for half the afternoon. But still... "You are so fucking sexy," he whispers. "Make me crazy."

"The feeling is definitely mutual," Lance murmurs back, sliding his hand between them, and Jesse can't swallow his groan; doesn't even really try, especially when Lance bends his head and brings his teeth together on Jesse's collarbone.

"Fuck..."

"Oh, definitely. Absolutely. I promise..." Lance punctuates his words with more bites, and Jesse's going to jump out of his skin any second now. So good. Lance licks lower, tongue circling Jesse's left nipple, then the right, and Jesse leans his head back against the pool rim and lets the sun beat down red on his closed eyes. "Please," he moans, arching into Lance's hand.

"Love that," Lance breathes. "I fucking love hearing you beg," and Jesse loves it, too, because he knows Lance will give him everything he asks for. He eases away from the side of the pool so Lance can strip the running shorts off him, and it's so damn decadent to be naked like this; cool water and hot sun, and Lance's mouth and hands tracing pure fire over his skin. With as good as this feels, Lance could tease him for hours and Jesse wouldn't complain, but that's not the plan today. Oh, no, it's not, Jesse realizes with a shiver. The plan today is to touch and lick and bite until Jesse can't stop shaking and every breath is a whimper, and then see how much more he can take after that.

Coming down after great sex is quite possibly one of the best things about being with someone. Jesse'd never realized how good it could feel to lie back and let someone keep you safe until your heart stopped pounding and your muscles unknotted and your lungs decided to work again, but Lance likes talking him down almost as much as he likes spinning him up in the first place, so there's never any rush. Jesse's about to let his hand slide under the water and see about a little reciprocity when his stomach growls. Lance snickers and says, "So much for living on love," and Jesse has to laugh.

"Later?" he asks.

Lance drawls, "Count on it," but ruins his tough-guy impersonation with a lazy grin.

"Dork." Jesse smacks him on the back of the head and gets out of the pool, ignoring the polite wolf-whistle as he wraps a towel around his waist. Nick's still asleep; Jesse feels a little bad about having sex not ten feet away from him, but only a little. He's too damn relaxed to worry about much more than getting some food, and then maybe finding a bed and finishing what he and Lance started.

***

Nick walks into the kitchen while Jesse's still staring at the open refrigerator hoping against hope that something will materialize for lunch.

"Hey," Jesse says. It's fairly inadequate, given that the last words they'd exchanged had been a borderline threat, but it's the best he can come up with post-orgasm.

Nick seems to take it in the spirit Jesse meant it. He leans against the wall and peers into the refrigerator, too. "Uh, is there something, like, living in there?"

Jesse sighs and closes the door. "Just a week's worth of take-out leftovers. Maybe I should order a pizza or something."

"Oh, fuck, no," Nick groans, and when Jesse looks at him, he's gone kind of green again. "I, uh, I mean, don't order anything on my account."

"Sorry," Jesse says, and hopes Nick understands it's not just about suggesting pizza.

"Me, too," Nick says.

"No," Jesse says. "It's fine--"

"Let me say this, okay?" Nick waits for Jesse's nod, then says, "About last night, because, yeah, I _do_ owe you an apology for that shit, all right? And about this morning, for bailing, or trying to. So, I'm sorry. Thanks for not taking a swing at me, 'cause I wasn't in any shape to duck."

"Thanks for staying," Jesse says.

Nick snorts softly, not quite a chuckle, but close. "Like I had a choice?"

Jesse smiles. "He is pretty persuasive, isn't he? But I think you could probably take him. If it came to that." He pauses, considering. "Though maybe not today."

"Definitely not today," Nick replies, wincing. "Actually, though, I was talking about you."

Jesse blinks, slightly startled, but Nick looks serious. "Oh," Jesse finally says, smiling. "Um. Good." He takes the short step necessary to be next to Nick, and leans up for a brief kiss. It's the first time he's touched Nick, to speak of, since Nick arrived, and it's barely anything that could be called sexual, except in the way that everything about Nick seems at least _somewhat_ sexual. Jesse pulls back far enough to see Nick's expression, but stays close. "I..." He stops, shaking his head. "_We_ want you here."

"Dunno why," Nick says quietly. "I'm not exactly a ton of fun these days."

Jesse hip-checks him. Gently, nothing more than a nudge, but a _pay attention_. "We didn't invite you so you could entertain us. I mean, it'd be great if you were feeling better. About, y'know, things. But no matter what, you're still welcome here."

Nick looks skeptical, but after a moment he shrugs. "Whatever," he says. "I'm gonna go grab a shower. I think I'm still sweating beer."

Jesse should probably try to stop him, talk more, make sure he understands, but he can't think of a whole lot else to say. Maybe it's more a question of saying the same stuff, over and over, until Nick gets it. Or maybe it's just going to take time. Either way, food would be a good idea. When Lance appears a few moments later, Jesse's paging through the Yummy menu trying to put together an order. Deli sandwiches, for sure; Nick's going to need to eat sometime, and maybe plain old meat and bread would look less threatening than pizza.

Lance is faintly damp and smells of shower gel, and even though Jesse's stomach's still growling, he wants to press Lance up against the stainless steel panel of the refrigerator and taste every inch of his skin. "Roast beef for Nick, you think?" Jesse asks, trying to maintain his focus.

Lance nods, pressing a kiss to Jesse's throat that makes him shiver. "Sounds good. He looked a little distracted, but he got into our shower, not the guest one, so that's good. What'd y'all say to him?"

"I said we wanted him here," Jesse says. Cereal, too, he thinks, and milk. Cookies and chips--no, popcorn. Popcorn's more fun. And fruit salad, and green salad... Maybe they can grill fish for dinner, if Nick's stomach is up to it. He picks up the phone and speed-dials, and Lance's arms go around his waist as he waits for the store to pick up.

"You're so fucking special," Lance mouths against his nape, and Jesse's pretty damn sure if he gets on his knees as soon as he puts in the order, they can both be finished before the driver gets there.

***

Before the driver, as it turns out, but not before Nick's done with his shower. "Whoops," Jesse hears Nick say, as he's stroking behind Lance's balls with one hand and working himself with the other, Lance deep enough down his throat to have them both out of breath. Jesse makes a concerned sound, looking up questioningly, but damn, he doesn't want to stop, for his own sake or for Lance's.

"Nick," Lance calls, his voice surprisingly steady. Jesse clearly needs to work on his technique if Lance can talk that well. "It's--sorry. Come in. I mean, if you want. It's up to you. We... oh, fuck." The last word is a growl, and Jesus, Jesse loves getting Lance off. He wants to taste Lance, feel him shooting down his throat before he lets himself go too, so he's moving faster now, sucking harder, licking, _wanting_. Lance's fingers are in his hair, twisting enough for him to feel it, so hot, so good, and then suddenly Nick's there, too, leaning over Jesse to kiss Lance, press him back into the wall, before dropping down behind Jesse and reaching around him to replace Jesse's hand with his own.

Lance groans, and, _God_, Jesse thinks. Not that he wasn't turned on before, but now Nick's hands are moving on him, and, oh, fuck, _in_ him, just this side of painful and Lance is starting to lose it, Lance and Nick both right on the edge of too fast, too deep, too rough, and it's all too much to handle.

Nick backs off and won't let him come, keeps him strung out and shaking. He bends close and whispers into Jesse's ear, "Watch him, watch him, look at what you do to him," and Jesse can't tear his eyes away from Lance, head against the wall, abs, chest and neck arching into one long, taut curve as he comes with a low growl.

Nick's still talking; Jesse's head is full of his voice, of his words. "You're so good at that; you love it, don't you? Love being on your knees and taking it. You get off on it; I could watch you like this forever." Lance sinks to his knees in front of Jesse, pressing him back into Nick, and then leaning past him to kiss Nick over his shoulder. Nick's panting when they break, but picks up right where he left off. "Yeah, c'mon, show him how hard that made you, how bad you want to come. Show him how gorgeous you are; let him watch you like you watched him." Jesse moans as Nick strokes him a little rougher, a little nastier, and pushes deeper inside him. More than one, less than his whole hand--Jesse doesn't know, doesn't care.

Lance kisses him, licks deep inside his mouth. Jesse knows he's tasting himself, knows how much Lance likes that, and the knowledge twists hard and low in his gut. Lance's hands are all over Jesse, stroking up his thighs, pinching roughly at his nipples, teasing over and under and around Nick's fingers. "You ready to come, baby?" He kisses Jesse again, swallowing the eager, pleading whimpers that are Jesse's answer. "I'm sure Nick will let you if you ask him, won't you, Nick?"

"Ask me, Jess," Nick growls. "Say it, nice and pretty."

"Please," Jesse moans. "Please, please, please." It's the only word he can wrap his brain around, so he says it over and over, louder and louder, until Nick finally gives him the perfect fierce rhythm he needs to come, out of his mind and half-screaming from how good it feels, the three of them together.

***

The doorbell rings after Jesse's heart has stopped feeling as though it's going to explode, but long before he can even think of moving. "Door," he mumbles, but that's all he's going to be good for. "Food."

Nick snickers. "Is he really always this gone after he comes?" he asks Lance. Jesse musters the energy and brainpower to flip him off, but Nick just laughs harder and shifts him over to lean on Lance. "I got it covered," he says and heads toward the door.

Lance smirks, and Jesse would feel smug, too, if he could find the rest of his brain. "I think that worked out well, don't you?"

_Well_ is the least of the words Jesse would use to describe it. If he was capable of words at all. It's not that he'd forgotten how hot Nick was--far from it--but after last night, it wasn't really what he was expecting. Not to mention Nick's obviously still feeling pretty rough. On the other hand, there's nothing like good sex to take your mind off just about anything short of _active_ vomiting. He takes a breath and tries to rally enough to stand up. "We shouldn't leave him to deal with the groceries by himself," he says, and both legs and mouth seem to be on their way back to full functionality.

"Mmm," Lance says, but he lets Jesse give him a hand up. Jesse hangs back until he's sure the delivery guy is gone--that wouldn't be a pretty story to have to try to cover up, Lance's very male assistant very naked in the front hallway, together with not only Lance but a Backstreet Boy to boot--but a moment later they meet Nick coming back in toward the kitchen, a handled bag in each hand. Jackson, who tends to think any delivery must mean food for him, is doing his best to trip Nick up, but Nick doesn't seem to be bothered by it.

"I hope they delivered the right stuff," he says, "I couldn't exactly check."

Jesse takes the bags, parking them on the counter and trying to remember if he ordered anything that will spoil if it doesn't go in the refrigerator right away. Not like he couldn't order more, but... He turns to Lance, tilting his head toward the bags. "Hey. Would you mind putting these away?"

Lance arches an eyebrow, but he steps up without a question and starts pulling things out and opening cupboards. Jesse wants to kiss him, so he does, quickly, before turning to Nick, who's standing there looking like he doesn't want to look uncertain, but not quite succeeding. It's actually kind of funny watching him trying to look anywhere other than at them.

Jesse moves closer, smiling, reaching up to touch Nick's cheek. "You feeling some better?" he asks. "You look like it." It's true; Nick's color is coming back. "I ordered sandwiches for lunch," Jesse says, "but if you can wait a little longer to eat, I'd sure like to make you feel even better first." He's getting on toward ravenous, but the idea of Nick in his mouth is definitely appealing. So is the idea of making this sad, stressed Nick _happy_, if only for a few minutes.

Nick glances over at Lance, who meets his eyes with a casual "Yeah?" as he puts the milk and the salad fixings in the fridge.

"You don't have to," Nick begins, and Jesse nods.

"I know. I'm pretty sure sex with you is not likely to be a chore anytime soon." Not in this lifetime or the next, he thinks. Nick doesn't answer right away, so Jesse slides in closer, feeling the fabric of Nick's shorts against his bare skin, running a hand up Nick's thigh, asking and offering. "You were right," he murmurs, low and intimate. "I do get off on it. Will you let me? I'll be good, I promise." He can see the pulse beating hard at Nick's throat. Nick's eyes go to Lance again; he's done with the perishables and is leaning against the counter, looking at them. "Do you want him to watch?" Jesse asks. "Or do you want it like it was when I was sucking him? Kissing him while I get you off; you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Nick hasn't moved, really, but he hasn't pulled away either, and when Jesse cups him, rubbing the heel of his hand against Nick's crotch, Nick groans softly, pushing into the pressure.

"Jesus," Nick breathes, his hand going to Jesse's head almost involuntarily, and Jesse goes down without hesitation, maybe wishing for some cushioning on the floor, but he can handle it. He doesn't expect this is going to take all that long anyway.

It doesn't; it takes even less than he expects, which is gratifying in a way, but also kind of odd. Jesse isn't pushing it all that much, wasn't trying to make it be the hothotfast rush of a lunchtime quickie, but Nick goes from zero to sixty before Lance can even make it across the kitchen to lean into him, and is coming not two minutes after that.

Jesse sits back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Nick's leaning shakily against the wall. Lance has his hand curled around the back of Nick's neck, fingers threaded through the short blond hair, kissing him slow and languid. Jesse watches them for a second, then stands up. Nick's arm comes around him and Lance turns from Nick to kiss him with the same lazy attention. He growls a little at the taste of Nick on Jesse, but it's more appreciative than aggressive.

It'll be a cold day before Jesse's anything but grateful and eager for Lance's kisses, but he keeps this one short, shifting away after only a minute in favor of the first real kiss he's gotten from Nick since saying goodbye in the Keys.

***

Nick mostly eats the bread off the sandwiches, which works out conveniently with Lance's whole thing with carbs. They sit together at the table next to the pool, trading bits and pieces of their food like a couple of grade-school kids. Jackson sits on Lance's lap and begs for anything he thinks he has a chance at. Jesse suspects Nick, as the newcomer, is likely to be the easiest mark, but Jackson's going to have to figure that one out for himself.

When the food's gone, Lance mutters, "Power nap," and is snoring on a deck chair within minutes. Nick helps Jesse clear all the junk off the table and put away the rest of the groceries. Jesse says, "He'll be awake in an hour, do you want to do anything later?" Nick shrugs. "The weekend's wide open," Jesse continues. "We could go to San Diego or Vegas if you want."

"Nah, it's good just being here, you don't have to make a bunch of plans."

Jesse grins. "Okay. Just, speak up, y'know? We don't want you to be bored."

Nick snorts. "You're not planning to cut off the live-action porn, are you?"

"Definitely not," Jesse says.

"Then we should be cool."

Nick's grinning, looking about as relaxed as he has since he arrived, and Jesse takes a deep breath and says, "Uh, since you brought the subject up, are you okay? Because, man, I know I'm good--" he ducks Nick's half-hearted smack to the back of his head easily "--but, really, I'm not _that_ good."

For a second he thinks he made a mistake, that Nick's going to bolt--or, worse, shut down again--but in the end, Nick shrugs and mumbles, "Nah, I'm fine. It's just, been a long time since anybody..."

"Since anybody..." Jesse prompts.

"Since I've been with anybody," Nick sighs. "Like, okay, since the Keys. I mean, not that I can't get laid, y'know, but with all the shit that's been going on, I haven't. Whatever."

Jesse crosses the distance between them slowly, to give Nick time to move if he doesn't want Jesse in his space, but Nick lets Jesse press close and kiss him. "Then," Jesse says, dropping kisses along the line of Nick's jaw, "we have a lot of time to make up for."

Nick hesitates a moment, glancing out toward the pool where Lance is still sleeping, but he doesn't say anything, and when Jesse licks gently over the crease of Nick's lips, Nick opens, one big hand coming up to cradle Jesse's head as Nick kisses him back.

Jesse's been teased before about how much he likes kissing. And okay, maybe it's girly, but he can't really say he cares, when the up side is Nick's mouth moving against his, warm and wet and the perfect juxtaposition of soft lips and the scrape of stubble. Nick brings his teeth together on Jesse's tongue and Jesse moans, his knees buckling slightly.

Nick chuckles, pulling Jesse tighter against him. "What do you want, baby?" The hand that's pressed to Jesse's waist moves lower, squeezing, and sure, Jesse wouldn't mind being bent over the island right here and fucked until he can't stand.

Still, he can't help thinking about how pale Nick was when he came downstairs earlier; the weariness underlying his drunken anger the night before. Jesse leans into Nick's embrace a moment longer, savoring its solid warmth. Then he stands back, smiling. "You know what I want?" he asks. Nick raises an eyebrow and Jesse stretches up to kiss the tip of his nose. "C'mon." Nick looks at him inquiringly, but lets Jesse take his hand and lead him into the living room.

When Lance wanders in, almost an hour to the minute from when he fell asleep--Jesse's always admired, even envied, his ability to do that--Nick is spread out on the deep sofa, eyes closed, with Jesse kneeling over him, kneading his back while Nick makes sounds that are probably illegal in most states. Lance gives Jesse a smile, and steps closer for a brief kiss. "Should I be jealous?" he teases. "You haven't given me a backrub in..."

"Days," Jesse replies dryly. "He looked like he needed it," he adds more quietly, though he suspects Nick can still hear him. "And you know all you ever have to do is ask."

Lance chuckles. "I'm going to remind you you said that."

Jesse'd flip him off, but his hands are busy. And, okay, maybe he's not _always_ in the mood to give backrubs, but he likes making Lance happy, too, and Lance knows it.

Nick shifts, trying to lean up a little. "You can stop," he says. "It's okay, if you want to..." He gestures toward Lance with his chin, and Jesse gently but firmly shoves him back down.

"Relax," he says, digging his fingers into Nick's shoulders, the muscles there less tense now than when he started, and he likes that, has always liked the physical proof that he's doing something right, something good. "He just likes to complain. I'm not done with you yet."

"You should listen to him," Lance adds. "Don't look a gift backrub in the... whatever." He touches Nick's hair, sliding his fingers briefly down the strands. "Also, if you want, you could go back to making those porn noises. I'm sure that's something we can all enjoy together."

There's another second or two before Nick accepts it, before he settles back into the couch with a slight shrug and closes his eyes again. "Fine," he says. "Whatever." There's something in his voice that doesn't ring quite right, and Jesse looks at Lance, questioning, but Lance just quirks one corner of his mouth and looks back at him. Jesse puts a little extra muscle into the next sweep of his hands, and Nick moans in a way that's wholly gratifying, and Jesse figures he'll focus on this for now and deal with whatever else later.

***

He ends up letting it slide, because Nick seems mostly okay after that. He's still a little quieter than Jesse thinks is right, but the rest of the day goes by quietly. Lance insists on grilling the fish, and when Nick catches Jesse in the kitchen calling out for pizza, Jesse rolls his eyes and says, "You'll thank me later; he can't do that to save his life."

Ten minutes later, Nick's in the kitchen again, shoulders shaking from the laughter he's holding back, and Jesse can hear Lance spitting out curses in Russian. Jesse takes him a fresh beer and scrapes the charcoaled fish off the grill, then pushes him down on a deck chair and makes out with him until the delivery guy rings the doorbell.

Jesse meets Nick at the door and shoves him and his already open wallet back toward the pool. Nick protests but Jesse elbows him out of the way, saying, "Don't make me rough you up, Carter." Nick snorts, but he's still not in the best shape and Jesse knows he knows it. "Go molest Lance while I deal with the food, okay? Keep him from whining about how the grill cooks unevenly and might actually be possessed until I can stuff some pizza in his mouth."

Jesse thinks Nick hesitates but then the doorbell rings again, and Nick heads down the hall. Two pizzas, a dozen breadsticks, zabaglione for four and a delivery guy who eyes him with more than professional interest later, Jesse's making a sweep back through the kitchen to add a six-pack of beer and the salad to his double armload.

It's too much to carry at once, but he concentrates and manages to make it to the table by the pool without a disaster. The beer nearly ends up all over the deck, though, when he turns around and sees how Nick's got Lance spread out on the deck chair, hands pinned over his head, body arching up helplessly.

Nick looks up and grins. "This what you had in mind, dawg?" His free hand slides up under Lance's shirt, and Lance moans low in his throat. "He hasn't said anything about the grill for a while, but he's not real good at shutting up, is he?"

"Fuck. You. Carter," Lance pants.

"Oh, no way," Jesse says. "I'm first in that line; you still owe me from earlier."

"Good to know," Nick says to Jesse, ignoring Lance's twisting attempts to get free. "People are always telling me a little structure is a good thing. Food first, though; then the fucking."

The pizza's good, and Lance is too busy making remarks about cock-teases to think about his BMI until he's nearly done with a second slice, at which point Nick shoulder-checks him and threatens to find something else to do with Lance's mouth if he can't use it for normal things like eating. "Not that that's not on the agenda for later anyway," Nick adds, "but it's funny how sex is better when nobody's passing out from hunger, so for now, shut up and eat, Bass."

Lance draws the line at the breadsticks, but does finish his pizza, along with a fair amount of salad. Jesse eats a little of everything, and makes sure Nick does, too, though in the end the dessert ends up going into the refrigerator untouched. It'll be there later, along with cold pizza, if anyone wants a midnight snack.

"Now, where were we?" Lance asks, when the empties have been rinsed, Jackson's been pacified with fresh kibble, and the dishwasher's running.

"As I recall, Nick had you pinned and begging," Jesse says with his best innocent look, sidestepping easily to avoid Lance's predictable swat.

"As _I_ recall, someone was asking to be plowed but good," Lance fires back, "so if you want that to happen, you might want to be a little bit nicer."

Jesse smiles. "Aw, baby," he purrs, moving in close to Lance, rubbing up against him and licking the angle of his jaw. "When have you ever known me not to be nice?"

Lance huffs at that, but concedes, "Not when fucking was on the agenda, that's for sure." And Jesse really doesn't feel the need to argue about that.

It does occur to him, though, that there are more than two people in the room. He kisses the point of Lance's chin and turns away with only faint regret. "How're you feeling, Nick?" he asks. "It's pretty early for bed, not that that's necessarily a bad thing. You feel like picking a movie, or what?"

"Whatever you guys want is fine with me," Nick says after a brief pause. "It's all good."

Lance snorts softly. "You two can stay in here and play 'No, no, after you' all night if you want to; I, for one, want to get off tonight, so I'm gonna go put some porn on, and y'all can join me whenever you feel like it." He pauses in the doorway, turning to say, "Or, y'know, not; suit yourselves," before disappearing in the direction of the media room.

Jesse moves closer to Nick. "You okay with porn?" he asks, putting a hand on Nick's hip, petting gently with his thumb. "I gotta tell you, A, Lance has some great stuff, and B, watching him watch it is..." he can feel his cock twitch just thinking about it, "hella hot."

"He really gets into it, huh?" Nick asks, not really responding to the touch, but not pulling away either.

Jesse realizes he's not sure how to answer. "Sometimes," he finally says. "Sometimes he sits there and makes smart remarks about how bored the guys look, or how stupid the dialogue or the setup is. But he manages to make even that hot, somehow." Now that he thinks about it, he pretty much thinks Lance _breathing_ is hot, so maybe he's a little biased. Maybe Nick won't see the same thing he does, sitting next to Lance and drinking in his reactions. One thing he is sure of, though: "And sometimes, yeah. He gets into it." To say the least. "And that's... damn." He shakes his head. "C'mon. You got him good and worked up earlier; I bet he'll be ready to go."

Nick follows him as he walks down the hall, and whether or not Lance is ready to go, Jesse sure as hell is. As they walk into the room, Lance is sprawled out on the couch smirking at them, DVD already playing. His mouth is swollen from Nick's kisses, a little fuller than it is normally, and Jesse wants to sink his teeth into that bottom lip and never let go.

Nick settles on the other end of the couch and pulls Jesse down against him, wrapping one arm around him and sliding a hand up under his shirt to stroke small, idle circles over his abs. Lance watches them for a second, then turns back to the movie, a study in nonchalance.

Jesse lasts all of maybe five minutes before he _has_ to touch, turning his head to press an apologetic kiss on the curve of Nick's jaw before leaning forward and draping himself on top of Lance. He still wants to bite, but Lance tangles a hand in his hair, holding him back with a cool, collected calm that's guaranteed to drive Jesse insane until he can break it.

Lance smiles at Jesse's hiss of frustration and pushes him back toward Nick. Nick presses up close behind him and Lance ducks his head around Jesse to kiss Nick instead. Jesse's got a ringside seat to a show that's already ten times hotter than anything happening on the TV screen, but he's not at all happy at being forced into the role of the observer.

Lance, of course, knows this, and breaks the kiss long enough to drawl, "Be nice, the movie's just started," in that assured, self-satisfied tone that goes straight to Jesse's dick and promises that the so-far delayed fuck is going to be all about reminding Jesse exactly how much he likes to be on his hands and knees for Lance.

Nick laughs and says, "Screw the movie."

Lance glances at him and nods, then looks back at Jesse. "Upstairs. Now."

Jesse would follow that voice anywhere, and it doesn't hurt that Nick's right there with them, guiding them around corners and up stairs in between sliding his hands over them proprietarily. It's Nick who strips Jesse, holding him on display for Lance before pushing him onto the bed, and it's Nick who teases him with a wicked mouth and slick fingers while Lance undresses and readies himself leisurely, waiting until Jesse can't stand it one second longer.

When Jesse finally chokes _fuckpleasenow_, Lance presses up close and inside with one smooth relentless thrust after another, never giving him time to catch his breath. Nick says, "Oh, fuck, yeah," and Jesse realizes Nick's lying right next to him, watching Jesse's face while Lance is fucking him stupid.

Jesse never hears Lance and Nick talking to each other, but they're communicating somehow. Lance won't let Jesse come, just keeps fucking him with those deep merciless strokes until his arms won't hold him up, and Nick holds tight to Jesse's wrists so he can't bring himself off, and between the two of them Jesse thinks he might lose his mind. When Lance finally decides Jesse's begged enough and reaches around to stroke him, Jesse's so hard and so sensitive that the pain of being touched almost outweighs the pleasure. He doesn't know whether to beg for more or jerk away from the touch, and in the end, as always, he gives himself over to Lance and the brilliant, clawing sensation that never seems to end.

Nick pets and gentles them both, soothing down the shudders and coaxing them back to the reality of the big bed and the low lights and the warmth of being wrapped around each other. Jesse curls closer into Lance's body and Nick chuckles. "Yeah, the movies don't have nothing on that."

Nick's words remind Jesse that there's someone here who hasn't been taken care of yet, and he untangles himself from Lance only a little reluctantly, shifting over to press his mouth to the smooth curve of Nick's hip. Without comment, Nick lets Jesse roll him onto his back, and Jesse takes his time crawling up Nick's body, savoring the taste and feel of skin and ink under his hands and mouth. Nick has small gold rings in his nipples, new since the Keys; Jesse wonders when, exactly, he had them done, and why, but he has better things to do right now than ask. When he runs his tongue over the metal, Nick shudders deliciously, and Jesse smiles. He's feeling lazy now, almost sleepy, all the driving urgency muted into a slow, simmering need.

Lance is whispering behind Jesse, a constant murmur of _Sexybeautifulgorgeous_, and Jesse adds his own words as he traces his tongue over dark curves of ink and bites lightly at the rounded edge of a collarbone.

Nick's mouth is lush and hot when he gets there, and Nick's arms are strong around Jesse, holding him close. Lance runs his hands slowly down the length of Jesse's back, a long, teasing trail along his spine, fingers skating lightly along either side before sliding lower and pressing inside.

Jesse groans into Nick's mouth, and Lance _hmmm_s and adds a second finger, slick with lube or maybe Jesse's own come. Jesse's still relaxed from Lance fucking him, a little sore, but open and so very ready for more.

"Feel good, baby?" Lance is right there, so close; Jesse can feel his breath on the back of his neck, a quick puff of laughter as Jesse gasps _Ohholyfuck_. "It's not enough, though, is it? You want what Nick can give you--you want him inside you, yeah?"

Nick's panting and thrusting up against Jesse's belly, pushing him back onto Lance's fingers with every shift; Jesse can feel Nick's heart pounding under him. Lance is calm, though, and he takes care of the practical details of getting a condom on Nick and getting Jesse back in place, murmuring low and seductive the whole time.

Jesse sucks in a deep breath as Nick presses against him, not quite inside, that perfect second on the edge when every nerve ending _knows_ what's coming. He rocks down a little more, and bites his lip as Nick pushes up and in, and just that first bit is enough to send flashes dancing across his eyes. He holds himself still, never wanting this moment to end, God, yes, justlikethis--

"Shit," Nick groans. "I'll fuck you through the bed if that's what you want, but God, _God_ don't play me right now." Jesse's head snaps up at the ugly edge of desperation in Nick's voice, and he sees Lance's face register the same shock. Lance glances once at Jesse, then lies down and takes Nick's face in his hands.

"Shh, Nicky, shh, we're not playing," he says between kisses, and Jesse can feel the tension--some of it, anyway--ease. He wonders if he should stop, pull away, figure out what the fuck this is about, but Nick's still hard inside him, and Lance is still talking. "Relax, let Jesse take care of you, let him make you feel good; will you let him do that?" Okay, then. Jesse eases himself down, slow but steady, taking Nick deep and then starting to move. Smooth, easy pace, trying to feel what Nick needs and give it to him, leaning down to drop kisses wherever he can reach. He never meant to tease, but he doesn't want to rush things either. He wants Nick to feel loved and wanted and he knows Lance wants the same.

In the end, it doesn't last long. It seems like only seconds before Nick's taut with urgency, kissing Lance deeply while thrusting up hard against Jesse's rhythm, and then groaning long and low as he comes. Jesse rides it out, trying to coax every atom of pleasure out of Nick. When Nick sags back to the mattress, Jesse follows him down, blanketing him, staying close.

"Yeah," Lance is saying. "God, you're gorgeous, Nick. See, so good. Right? Better now, huh?" Jesse adds his own kisses to the mixture, nuzzling Nick's jaw, until Nick softens enough to slip out, and Jesse figures he can be more useful on cleanup patrol.

When he gets back from the bathroom with a warm washcloth, Nick's turned a little away from Lance, who's stroking his arm and murmuring something that Jesse's not even sure _Nick_ can hear. Lance spares a quick glance at Jesse, and a smile that's a kiss, and Jesse kneels on the bed, drawing the washcloth over Nick's skin, soft caressing touches. Nick clears his throat at one point, but doesn't say anything, and Jesse finishes up, then tosses the cloth onto the floor and stretches out at Nick's other side. "Tired?" he asks. It's early, not even time for Leno yet, but it's been quite a day, and Nick's probably feeling it more than either of them.

Nick shrugs noncommittally, and Jesse wonders, again, whether he should force the issue, make Nick talk about whatever it is that's got him so knotted up. It's easier not to, though, and mostly, Jesse figures Lance knows more about what's going on than he does, so he snuggles up into the curve of Nick's body and closes his eyes, pressing his lips against whatever skin's nearby. He didn't get a ton of sleep last night himself, what with everything, so lying still is no hardship. Nick's scent is familiar, comforting, and it's good to relax and drift. He can hear the rumble of Lance's voice, and the soft sounds of kissing, and it feels like home.

He doesn't think he's fallen asleep, though he might be wrong about that, but at some point Nick shifts slightly and Jesse hears him say, "Do you know what you've got here, Bass?" clear as a bell. There's appreciation in his voice, and something else, and Jesse can't help smiling, though he doesn't really want to wake up all the way.

"Oh, yeah," Lance says, and Jesse's listening fully now, whether he likes it or not--and, on the whole, he likes it. A lot. Actually, he wants to sit up, lean over and taste Lance's mouth, kiss a thank-you into his skin, but he knows doing that would make it seem like Lance only meant half of what Jesse heard in his voice. Like it was all about the two of them, and not Nick too. He wishes he knew how to say that, how to make Nick understand it, but he doesn't. A moment later he knows he was right to shut up, because Lance chuckles softly, there's the wet sound of another kiss, and then Lance asks, "Do you know what _you_ have?"

Nick doesn't say anything, but Jesse feels his pulse beat a little faster. Jesse knows he's going to look completely girly, but better that than hurting Nick any more than he's done already. He sits up partway and reaches across Nick to touch Lance's face lightly, his fingers tracing over cheekbones; lets Lance nuzzle against it, and then smiles up at Nick.

"He does shit like this, y'know." Jesse glances over at Lance, who rolls his eyes at him. Jesse arches an eyebrow and looks back at Nick. "He talks a really good game about the practical and the doable, and he likes to work the cool, distant thing, but underneath, he's really kind of sweet." Jesse grins at Lance, and drawls out the word so that it's _suh-weeet_, like he grew up hearing from the girls back home. Yes, it's cheesy and corny, but Nick smiles and relaxes, and Lance only nips lightly at Jesse's finger instead of trying to bite it off, so Jesse's pretty happy with how it all went.

Jesse's halfway back to being asleep when Nick says, very quietly, "No. I don't know."

Lance answers promptly. "You've got us."

Jesse smiles. They haven't talked about this, but all Lance is doing is putting into words everything he's been saying with his actions, and Jesse has zero problems with that.

Nick kind of chuckles, and Jesse can tell he's about to say something light, make a joke out of this, but Lance interrupts.

"I'm serious, Nick. Jesse's right, I don't like to talk about this shit--and you probably don't, either--but it... we're not playing. Not with each other, and not with you."

Nick doesn't say anything at first, and then he draws a long shaky breath. "I," he says. "What are you saying?"

Jesse sighs and shifts so his mouth isn't buried in Nick's skin. "We want you," he says. "Not for, like, a weekend once in a while. Full-time." And that's the first time he's really articulated it, even to himself, but it feels right, and he's confident they can _make_ it right.

Nick does laugh then. "You don't even know me," he says. "How can you say something like that?"

"We know us," Lance replies quietly. "We know we're... _more_. When you're with us."

"Well, the sex may be more," Nick begins, and Jesse can't see Lance's expression, but it must say _Shut up_ pretty clearly, because Nick's voice slows and stops. When he starts again, he sounds more serious. "I--you guys are fucking nuts. But whatever, anyway, even if, y'know... I have responsibilities. I can't walk out on Aaron and the girls. My parents... things haven't been good for a long time, and they're getting worse, and--"

"It's okay, Nick," Jesse says. "It's not a one-time offer. You do what you have to, take care of whoever, just don't forget we're here, okay?"

Nick doesn't say yes, but he doesn't say no, either, and Jesse figures that's a whole lot better than it might have been. The room goes quiet and this time Jesse does fall asleep, but he can tell Nick's gone first, and Lance surely won't be far behind.

***

The weeks after Nick leaves are pretty quiet. Lance is working on some movie deals, and Jesse makes sure everything's running smoothly in the background. Lance would be glad to shell out for a "real" assistant, if Jesse wanted him to, but that would mean having someone else underfoot all the time, and besides, Jesse likes being busy and being involved.

They make sure to call. Regularly, this time, forcing Nick to say more than "Fine," when they ask how things are going. It's not the same as talking face to face, but Jesse thinks at least Nick doesn't feel so alone now. Between themselves, he and Lance mostly act like it's enough, until one night when Jesse's driving home from a reception, some charity thing or other, and Lance shifts in his seat, huffing softly.

"What?" Jesse asks, turning down the radio.

Lance shakes his head. "It's not the same without him here."

Jesse raises an eyebrow. "Part of me thinks I should be offended," he says. "But I know what you mean." He reaches over and puts a hand on Lance's thigh. "You should tell him," he says.

"We _did_ tell him."

"Tell him again. He's at least as thickheaded as you are; you think once is enough?"

"I am not thickheaded."

Jesse laughs, and when they get home Lance fucks him long and hard and it may not be the same without Nick there, but it's still damn good.

The next day, though, he's out running--Lance is at a meeting, he'll be gone all day--and Jesse isn't sure what makes him start thinking about Nick, but once he starts he can't stop, and when he gets home he spends a few minutes online before jumping in the shower. When he gets out, he has just enough time to throw some clothes in a bag and head out the door.

Driving to the airport, he calls Lance's voicemail. "Hey. Hope things are going well down there; give Wendy a kiss for me. I'm--I was thinking about what you said last night, y'know, and, well... I'm on my way to LAX. I figure if both of you are too clueless to get him back here, I'll have to do the job myself. I do expect a nice bonus at Christmas, though." He's sort of babbling, trying to watch the road and also figure out the right thing to say. "I probably should have waited and talked to you about this first, but we should be flying back tomorrow, getting in a little after dinnertime, so yeah. Hope that's okay." He thinks it will be. He doesn't want to waste any more time.

When they land and he turns his phone back on, there's one new message. "You get him back here; I'll figure out a way to keep him. Fair? Now be sure to give him a good kiss for me. Oh, and Wendy sends her love and says we need to come out to the beach soon." Jesse grins, tempted to call back right now just to hear Lance's voice, but he decides it's more important to find the Avis lot and try to figure out the dashboard navigation system so he can find the resort where Nick's staying.

It's nearly 2 AM by the time he gets there, and it occurs to him that maybe he should have planned this so he wouldn't arrive in the middle of the night. Fortunately, Nick gave them his address and phone information when he first went back and realized he couldn't stay at the compound, so at least Jesse doesn't have to try to wheedle his way past some night manager to find out where Nick's villa is.

Nick pulls the door open after only a moment's delay, gorgeous in boxers with his hair messy with sleep, blinking blearily and looking agitated. "What--" he starts, then, "Oh. Jesse." He scrubs a hand over his face. "What the hell are you--is something, what's wrong, is something up with you and Lance?"

Jesse shakes his head quickly, his heart breaking more than a little. "I'm sorry. No. Everything's fine, don't worry." He steps inside, putting an arm around Nick and pushing the door closed behind him. "It's okay, I'm sorry, I should have called, I'm an idiot. Nothing's wrong."

Nick kisses him, holding him tight for a minute before letting him go. "Nothing's wrong--then what are you doing here? And what the hell time is it?"

"Fuck. I should have--look, I'm sorry." He feels like shit for worrying Nick, even the short time it took him to get to the front door from his bed. But he also knows it's right for him to be here. "C'mon, it's--" he looks at his watch, "Two-fifteen. Let's get you back to bed, I'm sorry for waking you." The villa is spacious, but it's easy to see which bedroom door is open, so he heads that way, still holding Nick's hand.

"'Sokay. I was just sleeping," Nick says, yawning hugely, and Jesse can't help laughing. "What's up?"

They're standing by the bed, and Jesse realizes he left his overnight bag in the car, but it's not important. He toes off his shoes and shrugs out of his shirt. "I'm here to help you pack," he says. "But first, sleep."

"Pack?" Nick asks.

Jesse nods. "Lance is fine. I'm fine. We're fine, but we're not fine without _you_, so I'm here to take you home with me." Nick starts to talk, but Jesse talks over him. "I know. I know you'll have to come back here, maybe even a lot, but you don't have to be here every day. And it's not like you can't afford the plane fare. Right?"

Nick snorts and scrubs his hand through his hair. Jesse's hard-pressed not to push him back on the bed and crawl all over him, kiss him until he understands. Instead, he takes a deep breath and says, "Okay, look, we'll talk about it in the morning, yeah?"

Nick half-smiles. "You telling me you're gonna make more sense in the morning? Cause, man, I've seen you wake up, and it ain't pretty."

Jesse rolls his eyes. "The more sleep I get, the easier it'll all go," he answers, gesturing toward the bed. "Take that any way you want," he adds, seeing the look on Nick's face. "Promise, threat, whatever. C'mon. Bed."

Nick finally shrugs and settles himself on one side of the big bed, waiting for Jesse to crawl under the covers before turning out the light. One arm reaches out, curving gently around Jesse. "Is, is this okay?" His voice is soft, hesitant.

Jesse shifts around until Nick's solid against his back. "This is better," he says.

***

Jesse wakes up twice during the night: once on his back, with Nick half on top of him, his face buried in the curve of Jesse's neck and shoulder, and once draped across Nick's back, spiky blond hair soft against his face.

***

Soft touches wake him in the morning, gentle patterns swirling across his hip and up along his ribs. "Is this okay?" Nick asks again, and Jesse, breathless from the contact, can only nod. Nick keeps his eyes on his hand, watching it as he traces a slow, wandering path over Jesse's skin. "I dream about you two almost every night. I was afraid to open my eyes this morning in case that's all last night was."

Jesse leans forward and kisses Nick. He takes his time, tasting and nibbling and tasting some more. "No," he says. "I'm here." Nick's hand stills over Jesse's heart. Jesse brushes his mouth over Nick's again. "That was from me," he says. "And this," he kisses Nick again, deep and hard this time, "is from Lance."

***

"You're kidding me, right?" Jesse holds up a faded, threadbare t-shirt, so old that the neck is stretched out and the hem has disintegrated. "You packed this deliberately? Like, put it in your duffel on purpose? It wasn't a complete mix-up with the Goodwill box?"

"No," Nick says, defensively.

"Of course not," Jesse says. "Goodwill doesn't take shit in that bad of shape."

"Totally uncalled for, man." Nick makes a grab for the shirt. "That's one of my favorites."

Jesse surrenders it, but mutters, "We are _so_ going shopping when we get home," and pretends not to see Nick smile when he says "home."

***

They keep pretty quiet on the plane. It's no secret that Jesse travels with Lance, but with Nick he has to be a little more discreet, and come to think of it if he were smart he probably would have booked himself in coach. But the flight isn't crowded, and Nick manages to escape without too much attention from anyone except the flight attendants. The first thing Jesse does after they make it through baggage claim and back out to the car, though, is to let his hand rest casually on Nick's thigh. He's wanted to touch Nick the entire trip but managed to refrain. Discretion, valor, all that. Now, though, there's no one to see, and he can hold off on kissing Nick until they get home, but he's for damn sure not going to miss out on an opportunity for a little contact, even if it's as tame as this.

Nick laughs at him a little, but doesn't pull away. When they turn up the driveway, every exterior light is on--the house is lit up like Christmas--and Lance is silhouetted in the front door, ready to welcome them.

***

Nick must call them insane at least a hundred times that night, and more over the next couple of days. When they're tangled on the couch, Lance feeding them bites of the tiramisu that accompanied the catered dinner that was waiting when they came in, Nick mutters, "I was going to come back and visit. You didn't have to send a posse out after me."

"First you have to get the donkey's attention," Jesse points out, disregarding whose idea it had been for him to go, and where exactly Nick should be "visiting."

When they go up to the bedroom, the closet doors are wide open, and there's space cleared for far more clothes than Nick brought. "Told you," Jesse says, poking him gently. "Shopping." Nick snorts softly, muttering under his breath, but he puts his dopp kit next to theirs in the bathroom, and gets in bed with them willingly enough.

He does leave later that week, and from the conversations Jesse overhears about court dates, things aren't getting any better, but Nick barely hesitates before buying a round-trip ticket, and when Jesse says, "I'll pick you up at baggage claim," he doesn't argue, just shakes his head and smiles.

"Completely nuts," Jesse hears him say, but he's coming home, on his own this time, and that's enough for a start.


	6. Las Vegas: August - September 2003

_ They’ve got a wall in China  
It’s a thousand miles long  
To keep out the foreigners they made it strong _

**August 31 - September 3, 2003**

"Pimps and hos? And you want me to go with you?" Not that Nick has any objection to a good party, and he _definitely_ has no objection to partying in Vegas with Lance and Jesse. He does think it's only a matter of time before they end up on Page Six, if not the cover of the _Enquirer_, but if Lance is okay with it, what does he care?

Then his flight is late, and he hasn't called ahead for a car, so he deals with the cab line, and he gets finally gets to the hotel and up to the suite, and in less than five minutes it becomes clear this isn't going to be the laid-back weekend he'd been expecting. That's okay; he's not just in this for fun and games, however scary that is to admit to himself, but he wishes he'd paid a little bit better attention on the phone. Lance had said that JC was going to be there, both for the party and for a performance, but, stupidly, Nick hadn't thought anything of it.

One look at Lance's face, though, and Nick's itching to get Howie on the phone. Howie always knows the good dirt, and even if Nick had to come clean about the whole set-up with Jesse and Lance to convince him that he's got a good reason for asking, it'd be worth it. He knows there was some serious shit going on between JC and Lance, and for a long time, too, he thinks. It's all fuzzy; there was too much going down in his own life at the same time, but he's pretty sure he remembers hearing about a breakup, maybe more than one.

He's made them late, so there's not much time for conversation. He tries to get something out of Jesse, but Jesse shrugs and says, "Things are always weird when JC's around." There's more to it than that, there has to be, but Lance is about to have a fucking kitten about getting to the party, so Nick just gives him shit for his pimptastic outfit and lets the other stuff slide for the moment.

The party itself is fine. George has always known how to put on an event, and this one is no exception. Nick does his best to lay low, hanging by one of the bars with Jesse while Lance does his time with the photogs. Wendy's there, too, with her boyfriend, who Nick hadn't met before, but who's friendly and funny and seems not at all upset at being supplanted by Lance for the "couple" pictures.

But later, when Lance is losing spectacularly at blackjack because he keeps sneaking glances at JC (who's over by the craps table making conversation with someone's wife or girlfriend) instead of paying attention to his cards, that's when Nick reaches his limit on pretending nothing's up, that they're hanging out in Vegas for no reason other than it's a happening place. "Quit throwing your money away and go talk to him," he whispers, literally nudging Lance in JC's direction.

"It's fake money," Lance answers. "Besides, I'm with y'all." He looks around for Jesse, who's on his way back from the bar with fresh drinks for all of them. Nick extricates his beer from their vodka-and-whatevers and turns back to Lance.

"Talk. To. Him," he says. "Brothers, right?" _Among other things_, he thinks. "Or was that just another thing you lifted from us back in the day?" Jesse smothers a laugh and Lance splits his glare between them. Nick shrugs, not quite apologetically, because hey, it got Lance's attention, didn't it? "Man, c'mon, he needs you. Look at him." And if Nick is really more concerned with the way Lance looks than JC, it's still the truth. Even Nick, who barely knows JC, can see the guy's not comfortable in this crush. "C'mon, Bass, every camera in this place has taken your picture at least ten times. You've got the best view on the Strip waiting for you. Invite him up to the room; you guys can catch up, and he can get away from being mauled."

For a second, he thinks Lance is going to argue, but Jesse nods, too, and finally Lance shrugs, takes a sip of his drink, and heads off--if in a somewhat roundabout way--toward JC.

JC and Lance being together means another round of flashes, but the two of them disappear fairly soon after that, Lance waving to Jesse and Nick, and Jesse giving him a "We'll stay down here a while" nod in return.

"You okay with this?" Jesse asks quietly, as Nick wanders from table to table, not all that interested in any of them, but as Lance said, it's fake money, so they might as well play.

Nick raises an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Jesse shrugs. "It's. Well, they've got history together."

Even from the little bit Nick remembers, that's a bit of an understatement. But denying reality won't get him anywhere; living through AJ's downward spiral taught him that lesson all too well, so he might as well roll with it. "They're brothers," he says again, and Jesse lets the subject drop.

For all Nick's good intentions, when the two of them head upstairs an hour or so later he's still steeling himself for a closed bedroom door--or, worse, a Do Not Disturb sign on the whole suite. When they walk in and find Lance and JC sitting on the sofa in the living room, drinks on the table and a good foot of space between them, Nick has to cover his surprise.

"Oh," JC says, standing up. "I'm sorry. It's late; I didn't mean to stay so long." Lance is standing, too, making host-like noises, but he's letting JC move to the door, and Jesse's saying something to JC--a compliment about the tracks Lance played for them, sounds like--and Nick sees Lance's face and realizes he didn't get a pardon, merely a reprieve.

He takes a quick breath. "Don't leave," he says, stepping closer to JC. "You don't want him to leave, do you," he says to Lance, and it's a question but it isn't.

JC looks at him, head slightly tilted. "I--it's late. I'm keeping you guys up."

"I'm not tired," Jesse says, not missing a beat. "Just wanted to get away from all the noise and smoke downstairs. C'mon, sit down. Let me get you a fresh drink." He's being so easy, so casual, and Nick wants to pull him close and hold him--though maybe Jesse doesn't feel the same currents in the room that he does. They're in different positions, after all.

It's a little surreal, making small talk and watching Lance watch JC and JC watch Lance. But JC's pleasant enough, and Lance... well, Nick cares more about Lance than he ever could have imagined. So when JC excuses himself to use the bathroom, Nick leans closer to Lance. "Think outside the box, you dork," he says, hoping he and Jesse are still on the same page, and yeah, when he glances over, there's understanding in Jesse's eyes, and maybe even approval.

Lance blinks at him. "Nick..." He shakes his head. "If you're saying what I think you're saying..."

Nick rolls his eyes, but it's Jesse who answers, "He is. And I am, too."

Nick's actually not entirely sure what he was saying, but he's not blind. He can see the longing in Lance's expression, and that's really what matters here, especially since Jesse's backing him up.

"I don't. I don't want to fuck up what we have," Lance says, soft and unsure.

"You never have before," Jesse says, equally soft, but with that layer of stubborn that Nick has learned to respect. "You won't now."

There's a lot being said without words, stuff that Nick's not sure he gets, not totally. Jesse's calm on the surface, but Nick can practically feel him vibrating with tension.

"For a smart guy, you can be pretty dense sometimes," Nick says to Lance. Lance looks like he's going to say something back, but then the toilet flushes and JC's standing there and Nick gives Lance another look and stands up, stretching. "Actually, I am kinda beat," he says, smiling at Jesse when he gets up too, and it's not as hard as he might have thought. When, after giving JC a handshake and Lance a brief goodnight kiss, Nick heads for the second bedroom instead of the main one, Jesse's right there with him.

"Where are you guys--" Lance starts, and Nick turns, raising an eyebrow.

"Have a good night," he says.

"See you in the morning," Jesse adds.

And then the door shuts behind them and Nick can turn to Jesse and let the smile slip. "Shit," he says, keeping his voice low. "Are we fucking nuts?"

Jesse laughs. "Yeah. But you knew that going in." He's warm and solid in Nick's arms, and his kisses come as close as anything on the planet could to making Nick forget about the two other people in the suite, and what they might be doing.

***

"What the hell was that?" JC asks, staring at the now-closed bedroom door.

Lance shakes his head and laughs uncomfortably. "That, uh, that was Nick and Jesse doing their best mother hen impersonations."

JC nods, more just to respond than out of any real understanding, but then, this entire night has been one strange thing after another. He's still not entirely sure what to think about Lance's... he doesn't even know what to call it. Not that everything that's happened since Nick and Jesse walked in the door--the obvious comfort the three of them have with each other--hasn't convinced him that whatever's going on seems to be working, at least on the surface, but even with living proof in front of his face it's still hard to process what Lance had told him when they first got upstairs. Hard to make it fit with the Lance he remembers.

Then again, this Lance is so different from that one that JC suspects the Lance he used to know is gone forever. And regretting that is pure selfishness on his part, because Lance is obviously happier than he's been in years. The familiar focus and drive are still there, but they're cushioned by a calm that's all the more magnetic for being unexpected.

Lance leans close to cover JC's hand with his own. "C?" he says, and that, JC knows how to translate... and knows that as much as he wants Lance close, he doesn't want it like this.

"No," he answers, shaking his head and standing up. "Dude, I appreciate the offer, but c'mon, your life is complicated enough."

"It's not a pity fuck," Lance says, ignoring JC's words completely, and JC should have known he wouldn't be let off easy.

"Then what is it?" It's easier to say than he thought it would be. "You don't need me for a damn thing these days. You made that clear in Miami, and it looks like things have only gotten bigger and better since then."

"Not needing's a long way from not wanting." Lance meets his eyes calmly. "I do still love you, you know."

JC can't look away, no matter how much he wants to. Lance stands up, and he's close, so close, but he's not touching JC.

"If you want to leave," he says, "that's okay. But I want you to stay."

JC shakes his head. "And them?" he says, jerking his head toward the closed bedroom door.

"You heard them." Lance laughs softly. "They're okay with it. I love you like crazy, but I sure as hell wouldn't be here if they hadn't suggested it."

JC closes his eyes and counts to ten, but when he opens them, nothing's changed. Lance is still there and he still doesn't know what to do.

Lance looks at him, tilting his head slightly, then nods. JC's not sure what Lance has decided, but since he's without a clue himself, he waits. "C'mon," Lance says, taking JC's hand. He turns toward the open bedroom door and JC hesitates.

"Lance..."

"I said, c'mon." Lance tugs gently, and JC goes, even though he doesn't think it's right, doesn't think he should, doesn't think he should want...

Lance lets go of him next to the big bed. "I'm gonna go wash up," he says, and JC's left standing there, alone.

He should leave. There's stuff strewn on the nightstands and on top of the dresser, loose change and a crumple of receipts and a pair of glasses that definitely aren't Lance's. He doesn't belong here, doesn't belong with Lance anymore, and that's a painful thing to accept, but he's had years to get over it. Just because those years clearly haven't been enough, doesn't mean he shouldn't leave now.

"Your turn," Lance says, and JC realizes he's blown his shot at getting away quietly. "There's one of those spare-items packs in the bathroom; I know you can't sleep if you haven't brushed your teeth."

Even though Lance has changed completely, he still remembers shit like that. The pain of _being known_ is almost physical, and JC goes into the bathroom without a word, if only to have a few seconds alone to deal.

He doesn't look in the mirror while he brushes his teeth. Doesn't look at the countertop, either; three shaving kits jockeying for space. The shower's safe, though. Clean and dry, impersonal as long as he doesn't think about anybody in it. Definitely not more than one anybody.

When he opens the bathroom door again, he's almost convinced himself he's going to leave. Walk straight through and go downstairs to his own room--but Lance is sitting up in bed, chest bare, and Jesus, it's not that he didn't know how buff Lance is these days. But there's knowing, and there's _knowing_.

"You okay?" Lance asks, and when he shifts forward a little, JC sees gray fabric where the sheet gaps at his hip. Boxer-briefs, not bare skin, and he should be relieved. He _is_ relieved. In a way.

He makes himself take a step forward, and then another. "Yeah," he says. "I'm. What are--"

"Sleep," Lance says. "I mean. It's up to you. But at least let me know you're sleeping with someone who cares for one night."

"I've got a perfectly good suite--"

"I know you do. And I know you look like--I'm sorry, C, but you look like hell. Give me this much, won't you? One night, to be able to reach out and know you're there."

The Lance JC remembers wouldn't have thought to frame it that way, as if JC were doing _him_ the favor. And if he had thought of it, he wouldn't have wanted to say it, wouldn't have wanted to make himself look weak.

As it is, the ruse is transparent, but JC finds he's willing to accept it. He _is_ tired, and he'd sleep fine alone, but the offer, the comfort of sleeping next to someone he's known and loved since he can't remember when... he doesn't have the energy to say no anymore.

He strips efficiently, draping his clothes over a chair so he won't look rumpled when he has to put them on again in the morning. Leaving his own briefs on, he pulls down the heavy hotel sheets and slides in next to Lance as Lance turns off the bedside lamp.

Lance is curled on his side, facing the middle of the bed, and after a minute, JC mirrors him. The room is dark, but he knows Lance is right there, and even after all this time, JC can tell by Lance's breathing that he isn't quite as relaxed as he wants JC to think he is. It's reassuring, JC thinks. It's familiar.

"I'm sorry," JC says, and he's not talking about this night, but all the nights--and days--before.

"I know," Lance answers, easily and softly. "We said that in Houston."

"We did." JC settles more deeply into the pillows. "I'm not really in that bad of shape, okay? Just a little strung out. Tired of planning marketing with people who never listen to a word I say. Or sing."

"Okay," Lance sighs. "Listen, you don't have to stay if you don't want--"

"No," JC interrupts. "No, I didn't mean it that way." He reaches out and Lance's hand is right where he knows it will be, curved up under the pillow, supporting his head. "I just don't want you worrying about me. I'm good."

"Are you good with this?" Lance tightens his fingers around JC's.

And how the hell is JC supposed to answer that? "Dude," he half-laughs. "What _is_ this?"

Lance snorts softly. "Okay, you may have a point. But, I guess... Me. You. And, uh, other than that, I don't know?"

Well. "Okay, then," JC says. "I'm good."

***

Nick's usually the last to get up in the morning, but he isn't surprised when both he and Jesse are awake earlier than they need to be the next day. It's like some weird variation on Christmas. He's not sure he's going to like what's under the tree, but he wants to see what it is, anyway.

He calls down for breakfast before they get in the shower, so by the time they get dressed there's a knock at the door, and soon breakfast is spread out on the coffee table. Nick pours Jesse his first cup of coffee, and Jesse passes him the sports section without comment. By silent agreement they're not talking about the still-closed door to the master bedroom, but the one thing about being in Vegas is that it's pretty easy to follow any sport, even ones that happen on the opposite coast. Nick's more than willing to distract himself with the latest race results.

He's calculating point totals and trying to figure out the scheduling for the rest of the season when the door opens and JC slips out, fully dressed. He says quietly, "Lance is still asleep, and I've got stuff, a call-in, so I'm gonna ..." His voice trails off but he's edging toward the door.

Jesse meets Nick's eye for a second, then says, "Uh, food?"

JC, unsurprisingly, looks confused. Nick laughs. "Dude, from him this early in the morning, that's like an engraved invitation. Seriously, you can do your thing here, grab some coffee or whatever. He ain't gonna say more than that for another hour, and I can try to turn pages quietly."

JC hesitates, but then his phone beeps and he shrugs as he pulls it out. Nick finds a clean cup and does the silent cream? sugar? routine while JC goes into interview mode on the phone.

JC's friendly to the... whoever. DJ, Nick assumes, at this hour; one of those annoying drive-time jokers. He answers the questions professionally, pleasantly, goes along with whatever schtick they've got going, records a few clips for them to use as station promo. Says hi to a couple of listeners, and doesn't roll his eyes too hard when he gets asked the boxers-or-briefs question for the umpteenth time. "Well, it's early, and I just got up, so I don't think I'm gonna answer that," he says, and Nick can imagine thousands of teenage girls hyperventilating as they imagine JC in pajamas, or less. For his part, he's glad JC's dressed, though it doesn't keep him from wondering what happened last night, and what kind of shape Lance is in--physically or emotionally.

When JC says goodbye and flips his phone closed, he seems to shrink a little. Only for the space of a breath, and then he seems to reach some kind of conclusion. Nick had thought Jesse was engrossed in the... whatever section he was reading, or more likely still in no-brain morning mode, but when JC stands, Jesse looks up sharply. "Leaving, so soon?"

Down, boy, Nick thinks, and JC looks startled, but Jesse keeps right on going. "That's it? One night, and you're done with him again? Not even going to say goodbye this time?"

"I--" JC begins.

"Nah, that's fine," Jesse interrupts. "It's probably better that way; there'll be less to clean up."

Nick winces internally. It hasn't been so long that he doesn't remember what it feels like to be on the receiving end of Jesse's anger.

"Clean up? There wasn't--we didn't--" JC shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. I, um. Y'all maybe shouldn't have been so, y'know. Last night. With the 'go for it' and all, if you didn't want--"

"I didn't want you to hurt him again," Jesse says bluntly. "And if you think it doesn't hurt him when you leave..." He waves his hand, frustration and dismissal.

"I'm not hurting him," JC says. "Jesus, nothing happened, will you lay off? I'm leaving, okay? I thought that was what I should do last night, and obviously I was right."

Nick clears his throat and hopes Jesse won't jump on him. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too. About me, I mean, back when. Leaving. But trust me, staying's a better idea."

JC turns to him. "Thanks. But, y'know... I've been wondering, where exactly do you fit into this whole thing, Carter?"

His tone isn't _exactly_ obnoxious. And, really, with Jesse ragging on him like that, Nick can't blame him for being a little pissy. Still, it hurts, mostly because that's a damn good question, and one Nick doesn't have an answer for. But he's not about to say that. Not out loud.

"He fits right with us." Nick doesn't jump, exactly, but he _totally_ hadn't heard the bedroom door open. Lance is wearing a hotel robe, and he looks rested, but he's frowning. "Look, I'm not sure what all I missed here, but..." He shakes his head. "I--we, there's a lot between us, C, but if you're going to be insulting... I'm with them now. For real. So if you're going to be around--"

"Yeah, that's the thing, isn't it? I'm _not_. I'm not sure what your boys here had in mind last night--or, hell, what _you_ had in mind--but it's pretty damn obvious that wherever I belong, here isn't it." JC starts off fairly calm, but that lasts less than ten words. "Shit, even in Miami--even if you _weren't_ already hooked up with them, I was fucking crazy to think things would work out for us now, when they never did before. It doesn't _work_. You know it, I know it; hell, do you want me to call Chris so he can list out all the reasons in humiliating detail one more time, just for fun?"

"God_damn_ it, JC," Lance snarls. "Shut _up_ for one minute," and, oh yeah, Nick thinks. That must have been a really fun tour when these two were breaking up. He spares a brief moment of sympathy for the rest of *NSYNC, but then braces for the next explosion. Lance flips a switch somewhere inside, though, and takes a deep breath instead of finishing whatever it was he was going to say. When he starts talking again, his voice is calm and smooth, but his accent is about as heavy as Nick's ever heard it.

"Look, I don't--I'm not sure how to say this, but, for now at least, don't go?" Lance doesn't look as though he's even breathing, he's so focused on JC. "Please?"

It's an endless second before JC nods, and a tiny bit of the tension goes out of Lance's body. He takes another deep breath and then half-smiles. "Can I put some clothes on?"

This isn't about clothes, Nick's pretty sure. Lance could probably hold a business meeting stark naked if he had to--and that's actually a very pleasantly distracting thought. Right now, though, Nick suspects this stall is more about giving Lance time to think than any embarrassment about his legs being bare. _What_ Lance needs to think about is another question, but he'll probably find that out soon whether he wants to or not. "One minute. Please, still be here?" Lance says, and JC shrugs, walking over to the windows to admire the less than fabulous Vegas-during-the-daytime view.

Lance still hesitates, so Nick says, "Go, man. We can hold him long enough for you to find a pair of jeans." JC shoots him a look that promises Nick'll be paying for that crack for a while, but hell, Nick spent his adolescence pissing off Kevin Richardson and getting away with it. He's sure he can deal with JC's worst.

Jesse catches Nick's eye, and he still doesn't look anything other than furious, and Nick wants to laugh at how he's somehow gotten cast as the calm one of the group. Brian so needs to hear about his. Right after Nick figures out how to explain that he's living with a member of *NSYNC _and_ his hot boyfriend. But that's a topic for another day. Nick drops down next to Jesse and runs his hand along Jesse's thigh. Jesse's staring a hole into JC's back, but Nick feels the rock-hard muscles relax a little under his fingers, so he keeps his hand there.

Lance takes no time, not even the minute he asked for, and is back out in the living room wearing jeans and pulling a t-shirt over his head before the silence can go past strained and into seriously uncomfortable. He doesn't take his eyes off JC, but he stops and kneads Jesse's shoulder and then mouths _Thank you_ to Nick before he crosses the room to put a hand on JC's back.

"I have no idea how to say this, and I probably shouldn't even be thinking it, but..."

Nick counts three deep breaths before Lance says anything more, and now he's really curious at what could be tripping Lance, the original control freak, out so much that he has to be calming himself down like that.

"Nick just kind of happened," Lance says, smiling over his shoulder at Jesse.

Nick snorts and mutters, "Happy birthday to you, too." Jesse elbows him in the side, but he's smiling, so Nick only pinches him at half-strength. Lance rolls his eyes at them, and then gets serious again.

"It was an accident, a stroke of luck, fate, whatever--I don't understand why or how it happened; I'm just really, really glad it did. And lord knows it's not supposed to work out like it has, so I'm not tempting fate and thinking it'll happen so easily again."

Lance has JC's attention now, and Nick sees enough hurt and sadness in JC's eyes to cut him a decent amount of slack.

Lance touches JC's face, smoothing his thumb along the high, sharp cheekbone, and says, "But at the same time, I want something to happen with you. Not for a night, or a weekend, or occasionally. Something real. Something full-time. I don't know if it can, or even if anyone else in this room agrees, but I wanted that out there, on the table."

Nick has to admit that Lance has more guts than pretty much anyone else he's ever met. Jesse shakes his head and mutters something about chutzpah. Without taking his eyes off JC, Lance flips Jesse off behind his back, and just like that, Nick realizes he's going to do everything he can to make it work out.

***

JC has no idea what to say or do. There's no good way to respond to this, because there's no way Lance can possibly be serious.

"Yes," Lance says. "I'm serious. And no, I'm not crazy--at least, I hope not. Yes, I know how this sounds. No, they," he glances at Jesse and Nick, who are sitting together on the couch, looking nowhere near as stunned as JC feels, "didn't know I was going to suggest this. Eight hours ago, I didn't know I was even thinking this." He stops and looks thoughtful. "Did I miss anything?"

Nick snorts. "Uh, yeah, but congratulations, man, you sure know how to kick the shit out of a boring morning in Vegas."

It's painful to watch Lance interact with Nick--or Jesse. It hurts to see that easy intimacy, in the middle of a situation that by rights should have them all spitting at each other.

When they met up in Houston, in the middle of Lance's training, it had been like cauterizing an open wound, but he thought they'd healed. At Challenge, he'd decided it was worth risking that progress to see if they could finally make it work, but when Lance said no, the pain from that alone was enough to convince him it was better that way. Now, this is tearing the scar open again, and the worst part is that tiny voice inside him that's saying _Yesyesyespleaseyes_.

"Why?" JC asks, and Lance turns back to him in surprise.

"Because I'm not the same person now. Because I have him," Lance looks at Jesse, "and him," and back to Nick, "and they were okay with last night, even if they have some concerns about it--and they don't know what the hell I'm talking about now, but they're still here. They're solid; we're solid, the three of us. I have..." He shakes his head. "I wake up in the morning and can't believe how lucky I am. Every single day. And still, there's still this place in my life that's yours."

He just says it. Plain and simple and like it makes some kind of sense. Not to mention being totally out of character for Lance. Well, the old Lance, anyway. Apparently, the new version is perfectly willing to wear his heart on his sleeve, and not in any needy or passive-aggressive way, at least not as far as JC can tell.

JC shakes his head. "This is all..."

"Pretty freaky," Lance agrees.

"Hard to believe," Nick chimes in. Jesse keeps his mouth shut.

"I didn't mean to dump all this, this morning," Lance says. "It is, kind of. A lot." He glances over at the two on the couch, and JC can't help wondering if paradise is quite as trouble-free as all that. "But," Lance continues, and yeah, this is a Lance JC recognizes, a little or maybe a whole lot scared somewhere inside, but determined not to let that change what he does. "I also didn't want it not to get said. No matter what happens--or doesn't happen--I wanted all y'all to know how I felt. No misunderstandings."

Well, _that's_ a tall order, but he's probably done his best, JC thinks. "Okay, then," he says. For the life of him, he doesn't know what comes next. "I guess I'll..." What? He's not sure if Nick's going to threaten to tackle him again if he tries to leave, but when he gestures vaguely toward the door, Lance nods.

"Maybe. Yeah. I mean, no offense, but. I think maybe now would be a good time for you to--"

"Go grab a shower," JC says quickly. "I'll, um. See you later, I guess?" There can't possibly be an _appropriate_ way to end this scene, can there? "You can, um. Call me. Y'know. If you want." Nick starts to stand--what, to shake hands goodbye or something? JC just gives a quick wave and ducks out the door.

In the hallway he stands for a second, trying to get his bearings. The doors are thick, and he can't hear whatever conversation might be going on inside. Not that he's trying. Much. After a moment he shakes himself into action. Shower, clean clothes, and food would be good. Maybe then this day will start making some semblance of sense.

***

Nick stands up, but Lance tugs him back down, taking a seat on the armchair facing them. "Shit," he says. "I'm so sorry, guys, I didn't mean to--" He shakes his head. "I should've talked to you first, that was totally unfair of me, I never meant to imply--at all--that y'all aren't enough--"

"It's okay," Jesse begins, but Lance interrupts.

"I love you. Both of you," he says, and Nick stands up, this time pushing Lance back down when he tries to follow.

"I get what you're saying," Nick says. "It's cool. But I think," he continues, glancing at Jesse, but not long enough to meet his eyes. "I think you need to have this conversation with Jess. No," he says over Lance's objection. "Seriously." He manages to find a passable smile inside himself; but even after all the years of photoshoots, it's tougher than it should be. "I'm pretty sure there's a poker game downstairs calling my name. Gotta keep this town in business, right? You guys take care of stuff." He gives Lance a look that he hopes is as clear as it can be. But Lance knows Jesse; if Nick gets out of the way they'll iron things out, he's confident of that. "You can come find me when you want me."

"Nick, wait--" But it's Jesse, not Lance, and Nick shakes his head, still smiling, and slips out, figuring once he's out of sight the two of them will focus on each other, which is what they should be doing.

By the time the elevator opens in the lobby he's figured out that slots are probably more what his concentration level's up to right now than poker. The cheaper the better, so he doesn't have to stop and get more money. Plus, the nickel slots have the added advantage of being the favorites of the blue-haired crowd, especially at this time of the morning. Nobody's going to ask him for an autograph, unless there's an especially devoted grandmother in the house.

Fifty bucks later, there's a hand on his back and when he looks up from the zone of watching the tiles come up and hitting reset, Lance is standing next to him, eyes tight with worry.

"Bass," Nick says. "You're supposed to be upstairs working shit out with your hot boyfriend."

"We talked--"

"Was there make-up sex?" Nick sighs at the look on Lance's face. "Man, c'mon, if anything ever calls for some spectacular 'GodI'msosorry' fucking, it's announcing that you'd really like to pull your ex back into the relationship. Especially when you do it before people are even awake and functioning in the morning."

"Jesus, Nick," Lance hisses. "Say it a little louder, I don't think the bartender in the other room heard you." Nick obligingly takes a deep breath, and Lance looks murderous for a second, before he cracks and smiles. "C'mon, you ass, _we_ need to talk. The non-sex kind of talking."

Nick lets Lance drag him off the casino floor, but makes sure Lance knows he still had a balance on the machine. Lance pushes him towards a couch in one of the lobby bars, waving off the waitress when she starts to head their way, and slaps a hundred-dollar bill on the low table in front of them. "Don't try to tell me you had more than that to play off," he says when Nick opens his mouth.

"Nah, man, as bribes go, this is kinda thin, but I'll cut you some slack on account of you having one hell of a morning."

"Thanks so much," Lance says dryly. "You're too kind."

Nick looks around and says, "So, I never quite figured the lobby of the Palms as the kind of place where you have deep, meaningful relationship talks."

"Carpe diem," Lance mutters, and then, when he sees the look on Nick's face, says, "Oh, don't even play like you don't know what that means."

"Yeah, yeah, what_ever_." Nick laughs and leans back on the couch, propping his feet up on the table. "Go on, then. Seize the day. You've done a hell of a job so far and it ain't even lunch."

"God," Lance groans. "Did I just fuck everything up _completely_?"

"Look, I'm cool," Nick says, smiling as easily as he knows how. "I can go whatever way this thing plays out. You and JC... there's a lot there I don't know, but that's your call. I'm here, and I'll be here for however long." He hopes Lance won't press him on the definition of "however long." The slots had helped, but there was no way he could turn his brain off completely, no matter how much he'd wanted to. He's in until there's no place for him... or until he can't stand seeing it coming down the road at him any longer. But now isn't the time to discuss that.

"Nick--"

Nick shakes his head. Change the subject. "What about Jesse? Did you square it with him?"

"I... I don't know," Lance says, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "He says he's good with it, that I didn't insult him or disrespect him, but, God. I really don't know."

_Then get your sorry ass back upstairs and talk to him until you do know_, Nick wants to say. But, knowing Lance, he did the best he could the first time, so maybe that wouldn't help. "All right, look, I'll go talk to him, and you," Nick looks around, "you go get a massage or something." Lance snorts, and Nick rolls his eyes. "Not a Vegas 'massage,' man, c'mon, don't be an idiot. Go to the spa or something. You like that shit, go throw some money around and get somebody to pound all the knots out of your shoulders."

Lance brightens some at the suggestion, but he still looks like he thinks he should argue, and Nick shakes his head as he stands up. "Fine, do whatever you want. Sit down here and wait for the local rags to report that you're passed out drunk before noon--I'd say the massage was the better option, but what do I know?"

"Okay," Lance finally says. "Will you..." He sighs. "Will you tell him I'm really, really sorry?"

_I'm sure he got that part already_, Nick thinks. Out loud, he says, "Yeah. I promise. Now go do _something_ so you'll stop looking like you're about to have an aneurysm, and I'll go see how things are hangin' upstairs. Hey, maybe _I_ can get the make-up sex, you think?"

Lance actually looks like he's taking the question seriously. Nick shakes his head and gives Lance his best big-brother cuff. "Massage," he repeats, before heading toward the elevators.

***

Working out always calms him down. Besides, he needs to get back in touring shape, so he might as well make a virtue of necessity. He laughs; he can _hear_ his dad saying those words. Which reminds him he hasn't called his parents in a couple of days. He should do that later. But first, get a good sweat going and hopefully that'll be enough to clear out the cobwebs, make him stop turning maybes over in his head.

When the elevator doors open and one of those maybes nearly takes a step out, before realizing it's not his floor, all JC can do is stare. In fairness, Nick looks almost as startled as JC knows he must. "Hey," JC says, getting on, because, well, the gym for the suites is upstairs, and that's where he's going.

"Hey," Nick answers, and for a second JC thinks that's going to be the end of it. Nick's (_and Lance's, and Jesse's_) floor is the next one up, so there isn't time for a lot of getting-to-know-you, even if that were what either of them wanted.

When the doors open again, though, Nick puts a foot out to block them, but doesn't step out. "Okay," he says, like he's trying to think something through quickly. "Listen, the thing is--you don't know Jesse, like, at all, right?"

JC shakes his head, and Nick nods, continuing. "Well, we've gotta fix that. I mean--he's great, you're gonna love him--so, yeah. Like, take him out to lunch or something."

JC looks at him. "What, _now_?"

"You got plans?" JC gestures to his sweat pants and tank top, and Nick blinks. "Oh. Okay. That's okay, I mean, I want to go talk to him right now anyway. But after. Come by after, take him out somewhere you can hang for a while."

This makes no sense at all. Of course, that could pretty much describe everything that's happened since he got to Vegas. "When I left this morning, I didn't really get the impression he was dying to see me around a few hours later," he points out.

Nick shrugs. "Oh, that. Well, yeah, when he's pissed you'll know it, but he won't hold a grudge. Still, you might as well make as good of a new start as you can."

JC shakes his head. There's too much weirdness there to start to untangle; he'll go for something simpler. "And what about you, what's your--you seem like kind of an odd person to be playing matchmaker here." He doesn't mean it in a nasty way, but he still hopes Lance is nowhere nearby. The elevator starts buzzing and Nick steps out; this time it's JC who doesn't let the doors close. "Nick?"

Nick makes a face that JC can't translate in the least. "Look," he says. "I guess what it comes down to is, I figure if Lance is happy and Jesse's not getting stomped on, I'm fine with this, whatever it is. So, see, like I said, Jesse's the thing. Which means, lunch. Late lunch, afternoon tea, whatthefuckever. The boy likes food, unlike Mr. Health-nut Bass, so you've got it easy there. Okay?"

They're all insane. That's the obvious explanation. But the buzzer's setting his teeth on edge, and Nick's on the verge of walking away anyway, so JC says, "Okay, okay, whatever. I'll, um. I'll call when I'm done working out."

"Good." Nick disappears down the hall, and JC lets the elevator doors close, the ensuing silence a palpable relief as the car slides upward again. He thinks there may be a lesson there somewhere. Of course, it may not be any more useful than, _Don't carry on conversations while holding elevator doors open_.

Stress relief. That was the idea, right? He can't remember ever being more grateful to see the quiet, _empty_ set of machines, so that's something positive, at least.

***

Weirdness. Nick hopes his gut instinct was right. Or, he's pretty sure it was, but he hopes he can convince Jesse of it by the time JC shows up.

When he opens the door to the suite, Jesse's in the middle of the living room floor, doing crunches. Nick wonders, briefly, what his own body would look like if his reaction to stress was exercise instead of beer. Somebody must be watching out for him, though, because if he'd thought about it, he'd have bet Jesse would have headed straight upstairs to the gym. Though that could have its merits, too; bonding through sweat and all that shit. Plus, he's pretty sure JC looks hot when he's working out--and he _knows_ Jesse does. That might have been the simpler solution, actually.

Jesse finishes a set--of how many, Nick suspects he doesn't want to know; he's sure there are at least two zeroes involved, and possibly three--and rolls to his feet. "Hey," he says, stepping closer and giving Nick a quick kiss. He's barely breathing hard.

"Hey," Nick says back. "You okay? Lance found me downstairs, and he was kinda flipped out, so I sent him off to get a massage, but I mean, did you and he..."

Jesse snorts softly, shaking his head as he wanders into the kitchen to get a bottle of water out of the fridge. "You know, when he first said all that to JC, this morning, that was so... normal. He does stuff like that, out of the blue, makes these huge decisions."

Nick doesn't really want to ask if he was one of those decisions, but it kind of fits with the whole scene in the Keys.

"And then he makes them work," Jesse says, interrupting Nick's thoughts. When Nick meets his eyes, they're calm and intent, and Nick can feel himself flush at being busted. Jesse smiles at him, and then shakes his head. "So, yeah, SOP with the whole thing with JC, but then you left and, dude. Are we really sure that was Lance? He was all talking about love and stuff. Like, more than once."

He'd better have been talking about loving _you_, Nick thinks, but from Jesse's reaction he knows Lance was. And, hell, he knows Lance is crazy about Jess, wouldn't hurt him for anything. There's something about Jesse that makes you want to take care of him, and Nick knows sometimes he goes a little overboard. "Well," he says. "Good. I mean, yeah. Of course he loves you."

Jesse cracks the bottle and laughs. "I know. I do know. But I'm not used to hearing it in so many words. Especially when we're both dressed, and without a punch line. I kinda felt like, I don't know, the wife who's caught her husband in bed with his secretary, or whatever. I mean, he shouldn't be apologizing. We told him to." He takes a breath, then says, more softly, "We _did_."

Nick nods. "We did. Are you, do you feel like that was a mistake?"

"No." Jesse shakes his head, and his voice is quiet, but solid. "If you love something, set it free, right, that butterfly crap girls used to go on about in high school when they got dumped?" He takes a swallow of water, and he's so fucking gorgeous, standing there bare-chested, lips wet; Nick has to curl his fingers into fists to keep from touching. "Every time they're together, it's--there's so much shit going on. Nobody ever says anything, but it's there," Jesse says. "This is better. Whatever happens, at least it's, I dunno. Real?"

"The way he feels about you is real." Nick does step closer now, cupping Jesse's chin, making Jesse meet his eyes.

"I know. I know. And you," Jesse adds, and Nick shrugs, giving enough of a nod that it looks like agreement. Jesse shakes his head. "I don't know. What I should be worried about--what I _am_ worried about--is what this might do to Lance. I mean, he does love us. And I know I was a little weird with you at first, but I got over it pretty fast, right?"

Nick laughs. "Right." It still amazes him, the way Jesse and Lance welcomed him in, made him feel... but he's not going to think about that. Not right now.

"Just, damn," Jesse's saying. "JC really hurt him before. And I... I don't want to see that happen again."

"Do you think it will?" He hopes not. If it does, it'll be his fault.

Jesse shakes his head. "I don't know. Shit." He takes a breath. "Lance doesn't think so. Or I think he doesn't think so. Maybe he's kidding himself? I don't know."

Nick snorts and pulls Jesse closer. Hugs don't fix everything, but they rarely make things worse. "I don't think JC wants to hurt him," he says, to the top of Jesse's head. "I know that doesn't always make things right, but I'm hoping. Between that and, y'know, _you_, I think things really are different now."

"Not me," Jesse says, tilting his head back so he can look at Nick. "Us."

Nick could argue about it. No matter what anyone wants to say about how the three of them are now, it's crystal-clear to him that Lance was as whole as anyone could ever want before Nick ever entered the picture. But Nick's not quite so stupid as to have a double armful of willing, half-naked man and want to pick a fight. It's a whole lot easier to smile and lean down for a kiss. Jesse makes a happy sound and kisses back, and yeah. That's much better than fighting.

He's still going to have to tell Jesse what he set up with JC for later, but that can wait a bit. First, he can do his part to put Jesse in as good a mood as possible. Doing well by doing good? Something like that. He'd been teasing Lance about cutting in on his make-up sex, but hey, a good idea is a good idea. He wraps his hands around Jesse's hips and tries to decide if it's worth walking all the way to the bedroom.

***

JC should have asked Jesse to meet him in the restaurant, because having Nick open the door and look him over like JC's there to deflower his daughter is not getting the whole-getting-to-know-Jesse thing off to a comfortable start. At least, thank God, Lance isn't around--Nick says he's at the spa--to add to the weirdness of it all.

Finally they're out in the hallway, with Nick's parting, "Honey, do you have a quarter to call for help if he gets fresh?" echoing after them. Jesse leans back into the room to tell Nick to fuck off, but is quiet as they wait for the elevator.

"I, uh, don't know what you like or anything, but I haven't really had much to eat today, so anything's good with me," JC says.

"I'm fine with whatever," Jesse says politely. "I'm not exactly a picky eater."

"Sushi?" JC asks, and, unexpectedly, Jesse grins.

"Sure. I'm always up for sushi. The place here is supposed to be really good, so yeah, that'd be great."

It takes a few minutes to sort out where they need to be going, and JC tells a semi-embarrassing story on himself about getting lost looking for a restaurant in Atlantis and ending up trapped in the eel room at the aquarium while Sexual Chocolate cleared a path through the swarming fans.

"Those are nasty-looking fish, man," JC says as the hostess leads them to their table. "They were staring at me like I was their midnight snack. I was almost ready to take my chances with the teenies, so now I feel like it's payback time whenever I eat sushi."

JC's not sure why he feels the need to be entertaining, but Jesse's playing along, and if he doesn't think about why they're sitting here, checking their order off the list and deciding to split a bottle of wine, then it's not a bad thing at all. Of course, how can he _not_ think about why they're together?

The waiter pours two glasses of wine and leaves the bottle, and they're alone again, and now JC doesn't have a clue what to say.

After a moment of slightly strained silence, Jesse sighs and says, "Look, let's just put it all out there, okay?" He takes a sip of wine. "Because, really, man, it's not like you weren't the six-hundred-pound gorilla in the pink tutu sitting over in the corner that we never talked about."

And that's... interesting. Flattering, maybe? Not that he wanted Lance to be pining away or whatever, but at the same time, it's nice to _matter_. And it's even more interesting that Jesse's saying that to him, admitting it up front.

"I've never said this to Lance, because--well, because it would hurt him," Jesse continues, "and he's never been anything other than incredibly good to me, but you've always been there. Not, like, a problem, but _there_." Jesse shrugs. "Now, at least, you're there for real."

"Am I?" JC says. "Because I sure as hell don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"What do you want to do?" Jesse asks.

The waiter arrives and JC's saved from answering while they split the nigiri and sort out who ordered which rolls. Jesse gags--politely--when JC mixes a small pea of wasabi into his soy sauce, and JC watches with exaggerated horror as Jesse virtually cakes the fish with green paste, and again, he almost forgets the situation.

Then Jesse looks up and JC sees the question still hanging in his eyes. He shrugs helplessly. "What do I want to do? I wish I knew." He weighs his words carefully. "I don't know how much you know, but we--Lance and I--really did a number on each other. More than once. And, yeah, we've gotten to a place where we can be around each other, but..."

"Things are different now," Jesse says, not insulting, just stating a fact.

JC nods. "What Lance said this morning, he _is_ different, and, God, I hope I am, too, because there are days when I think about the shit I used to throw, and I don't want to be like that."

"Well, that part I can't answer," Jesse says. "But you said, this morning, you said you thought you should have left last night, even after Nick and I cleared out. Would you have thought that back whenever?"

JC remembers all the times when Freddie or Bobbie weren't around, and sure as hell wouldn't have been giving their blessing if they were--all the times that left Lance and him more distant and angry than they'd been going in, and all the times they turned around six days or six weeks or six months later and did it all over again anyway. He shakes his head slowly. "No. No way would I have not taken whatever I could get."

"But you didn't last night, Lance said, and you did, too, this morning. I was just too ticked to be listening closely enough."

JC waits for an apology, but Jesse meets his eyes, clear and calm and maybe still a little angry and protective; and no, JC thinks, he's not getting off that easily for trying to slip out. But he can't help thinking how much less complicated his life would be if he'd told Jesse to stuff his righteous anger and kept on going.

"No," JC says. "We, y'know. Slept."

"I guess it's good some of us got some sleep," Jesse says, with a deceptively innocent smile, and JC gives up trying to make sense of this entire situation and grins back.

That's going to be his strategy, he decides, and pours the rest of the wine. There's no sense to be made of this whole thing, so he's going to stop trying. He's getting to know the man Lance is in love with, and that's something he needs to do if he's going to stay a part of Lance's life.

If that line of reasoning only holds up half the time, and the other half he feels as though he's out on a date with a damn good-looking guy who has a killer smile and a wicked sense of humor under the initial quiet, then he's not going to try to reconcile the two. He's just going to go with it.

***

"Jesse's _where?_"

Nick winces at how Lance's voice cracks, and shakes his head. So much for the massaged-into-oblivion, totally relaxed Lance who'd staggered into the suite not two minutes ago.

"He's out with JC," Nick repeats, while he rummages in the mini-bar for a bottle of Jack Daniels and a Coke. "Getting to know each other. Like, a date."

"Oh, God, oh my God, why?" Lance drops onto the couch, and Nick wishes he could make this a double, because Lance is clearly losing it, but it's the last bottle of Jack, and he's seen the face Lance makes if someone should, God forbid, hand him JB instead.

"C'mon, man," Nick says, handing over the drink. "Relax. It's a good thing, right?"

Lance moans. "They're _talking_ to each other."

"What? You thought they could just fuck and not talk?" Nick laughs. "Have you met either one of them?"

"I wasn't. I didn't." Lance drops his head back on the couch and closes his eyes. "Oh, _fuck_. My boyfriend is out on a date with my ex. The potential for disaster here is overwhelming."

Nick smothers the laugh that's aching to get out, and takes the glass back out of Lance's hand. If he's not going to take the edge off with alcohol, Nick knows other ways to get him to relax. "So's the potential for a majorly hot jerk-off fantasy," he murmurs, sliding his hand up under Lance's t-shirt. The skin is warm and smooth, and Nick takes his time, loving the way the muscles jump under his hand. Lance's head is still back, baring the long line of his throat, and Nick doesn't see any reason to resist the temptation. It's only a little bruise that he leaves, but he knows it's there and he felt Lance gasp when he bit down, so Lance knows Nick's marked him, too. Nick gets his voice back under control, and says, "They both were working out before they left, and I don't know about JC, but I do know how cut Jess is after he's been lifting." He catches the lobe of Lance's ear between his teeth, loving the quick, sharp hiss he gets in response, but wanting so very much more.

"You're seeing it, too, aren't you? The two of them, together." Nick drops his head so he can work on Lance's nipples, biting and sucking through the thin fabric of his shirt, and finally, finally getting the low, dark moan he needs to hear. Lance fumbles urgently at the waistband of his jeans, until Nick slaps his hands away. "Not yet, not yet," he says, and pushes the t-shirt up and out of his way so he can taste skin and Lance rather than cotton.

Lance works the shirt over his head and off, moaning and swearing with every touch and lick and bite. Nick might be the one with the piercings, but Lance is right there with him in liking to be played with. Jesse taught Nick that, and it's a lesson Nick puts into practice every chance he gets.

"Nick, fuck, c'mon," Lance pants, and then cries out wordlessly when Nick bites down and tugs sharply before sitting up and grinning.

"Jess lasted a hell of a lot longer before he started begging," Nick says as he takes in the sight of Lance sprawled half-naked on the couch, eyes wild, breathing hard. He can't resist flicking his fingers over Lance's peaked nipples, and then goes back for one last pinch and twist.

Lance arches up hard. "Fucker. Stop teasing and do something for real."

"You're such a sweet talker, Bass," Nick says, but he runs his hands down Lance's sharply defined abs and over the heavy cotton jeans. Lance is hard beneath his hands, and Nick's almost had enough teasing, too. He wants the jeans gone, wants to feel Lance moving under him, wants to watch Lance's face as Nick jerks him off. Nick gets the button fly undone, and shoves the denim out of his way but not totally off so Lance is half-trapped and can't really maneuver.

"You still thinking about them, Lance?" Nick keeps the strokes slow and light to start. "You'll have to tell me, what's JC like?" Lance gasps something but Nick doesn't stop to even try to make sense out of it. "He's still fucking territorial about you, even after all this time; he's going to be insane about Jess once he sees how sweet he gives it up."

Lance thrusts up into Nick's hand, tries to increase the pace, but he's not really trying all that hard. Nick holds him down easily and knows Lance is getting off on the tease. "You weren't here before he left, so I took care of him for both of us." Nick laughs. "Helped him relax, too."

"God," Lance moans. "You did this," trying to thrust up again, "before he went out with C?"

"Nah," Nick answers, and speeds up his strokes, because Lance took the bait, and this is going to seal the deal. "Jess would have liked this, but I wanted to be sure he'd remember us, in case JC turned on the charm, so I took him in the bedroom and fucked him hard."

Lance freezes for a stunned instant, then comes with a ragged growl. Nick thinks about not stopping, about pushing him to come again, and it's tempting, so very tempting to see how much Lance can take, but there's a lot of shit happening and maybe he'll save that for a day when life is a little more settled.

He gentles his hand and Lance shudders once more beneath him. "Carter," he says, without opening his eyes. "You are one twisted fucker. Did you really do Jesse or were you just talking shit to get me off?"

Nick bends down to kiss him, and then laughs. "He barely had time for a shower, babe."

***

By the time they've eaten all they can and far more than they should, and made a dent in a second bottle of wine, JC's mostly forgotten about Lance and is just having a hell of a good time with Jesse. Not _too_ good a time; they are in public, after all, but Jesse's fun, and funny, and it's awfully nice to be hanging out with somebody new and not feeling like he has to watch his back every other second.

Eventually, though, people start trickling in for dinner, and while he's sure the waiter would let them keep the table all night if they wanted, it's probably not wise to be quite so visible without Lonnie handy.

They slip out without incident, and Jesse steers them back toward the suite elevators, which is a good thing since JC's been in this casino a dozen times and can _never_ find his way from one side of the lobby to the other without asking for help.

The doors close, and Jesse hits the number for his floor. JC reaches out, too, but Jesse touches his hand and stops him. "You should come up," he says.

JC hesitates. "Um." He's really not ready to think about this. He was doing so well _not_ thinking about it. "I'm not sure I--"

Jesse gives him a look. "Lance has never stopped loving you. Nick wants us all to play nice in the sandbox together."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure..."

"We spent nearly three hours having lunch. Maybe you were just being polite and had nothing better to do today, but I'm pretty sure Lance has never in his life spent three solid hours with someone without any reason at all, so I imagine you don't make a habit of it either."

"Well, no, but--I mean, I was enjoying, I, you're, um, a really nice guy, when you're not trying to bite my head off." JC grins, rather pleased he managed to work through that rationally. Plus, it was a compliment. He thinks he should get bonus points for that.

His smile fades when Jesse replies, "Thanks, y'know, that's very flattering and all, but I think that's kind of exactly my point. Not available? Except as part of a set."

The elevator glides to a stop and JC realizes they're on Jesse's (and Lance's, and Nick's) floor already.

"C'mon," Jesse says, stepping out and turning when JC doesn't immediately follow. "Or don't," he adds, his voice hardening. "I meant what I said this morning. If you're not planning to stick around, then please do leave now. Thanks for lunch, I had a great time, love your music." He shrugs. "Have a nice life."

"No," JC says, getting off the elevator. "Wait. I didn't mean--"

Jesse raises an eyebrow at him. "Coming?" he asks, and heads toward the suite, and JC doesn't really have a choice but to follow.

He's not sure what he's expecting when Jesse keys the door open, but the rooms are empty. Jesse looks around and shrugs. "Maybe they went out to eat, too." He doesn't look too concerned, just takes a seat on the couch. "Make yourself comfortable," he suggests.

"I'm not really sure how to do that," JC replies. "What am I--what are we doing?"

"Talking," Jesse says. "Fucking, I imagine Nick hopes." JC looks at him, startled, but Jesse continues, "He seems to think that fixes everything. And, hell, the way he does it, he may have a point." He shifts, slightly, and JC blinks, because the guy who told him off in the elevator lobby a minute ago has morphed into something so sexual his mouth goes dry.

"Talking about Lance," Jesse concludes, and damn, the first guy is back again.

JC hesitates for another few seconds, and then admits to himself that he's not leaving, that he's as insane as the rest of them. He can't make himself walk away from this, and if Lance is in denial, and Jesse is too far gone on Lance to see straight, and Carter is doing whatever the hell it is that he thinks is fun, then JC needs to make more than a token effort to get this right, or the hell that was the PopOdyssey tour is going to look like a trip to Disney World when this thing falls apart.

He crosses the room and sits on the opposite end of the couch from Jesse, and says, "Okay. Lance." He holds Jesse's eyes steadily. "First off, I don't doubt that he loves you, or that you love him, or that you're good for each other. I wouldn't be in the same room with you otherwise." Jesse starts to say something, but JC talks right over him. "Ask Lance how long I could manage to be in the vicinity of his last so-called lover before one of the other guys had to start holding me back from wiping that star-fucking smirk off his face." He pauses before adding, "Then, to keep things fair, ask him what he thought about Bobbie."

JC could really use a drink, serious alcohol. The wine was nice, but he wants the icy burn of half-frozen vodka, or the smoke and fire of a good mescal. Right now, though, he's going to finish this and see if he's still welcome to stay once he's done.

"You're very pretty; I can see how Lance was attracted to you," JC says, and blinks when he sees anger flare in the light eyes locked with his own. He didn't mean it to be an insult; at least, he doesn't think he did. Maybe his subconscious has other ideas, but it's out there, and he can't take it back, so he keeps going. "You've built something with Lance, which is more than I was ever able to do, I admit that straight up. But," JC says, leaning forward, "you don't get to pass judgment on what went down between me and him before. You weren't there, and you have _no_ frame of reference for what our lives were like. Nick might, but if I'm going to do this, I'm not getting into any kind of a pissing match about who did what to whom."

So far, so good, JC thinks. Except for the "pretty" crack, he's kept things as polite as he can. "It's your call, man. If you don't think you can take me on those terms, now's the time to say so. I'll tell Lance thanks for the offer but it won't work, and to stick with what he's got going already."

"No," says Jesse, his voice tight with anger. "I'll tell him the truth, whatever happens."

JC nods. "Fair enough." He can't sit still any longer; he has to be moving, even if it's only to circle the living room restlessly.

On his third circuit, Jesse reaches out and grabs his wrist as he loops around the couch. "Do you still love him?" Jesse asks, and JC isn't sure if he wants to laugh or scream.

"Yeah," he answers simply; and for the first time in a long time, maybe the first time ever, he isn't thinking _Yes, but,_ and listing all the reasons why it's a bad idea or why it won't work. "Always, I think."

"You're serious? About this? About all of us?"

JC looks around. "Serious? Fuck, I don't know. This isn't exactly, it's not like I've had time to think about any of it. Lance just started going off this morning, and... I don't even know what he meant, really, I mean in any kind of practical way. I doubt he did, either, frankly."

Jesse doesn't disagree, but he also doesn't say anything that lets JC off the hook; he waits, silent, and after a moment JC takes a breath and continues. "I guess... honestly, I think you're crazy. All of you and, I guess, me, too. But Lance is..." He doesn't know how to finish that sentence. _Part of me._

"Lance is amazing," Jesse says, clear and simple. His voice is equally sure and protective when he adds, "So is Nick."

JC can't help wondering what it would be like to have that, that fierce love, surrounding him instead of against him. And then he thinks he probably could have had something pretty similar from Lance, for years now, if he'd wanted it. He wouldn't have had to share with anyone else, either. He swallows. "I believe you. I mean, I know. About Lance, anyway. Okay. You want an answer, and I--I don't know. But I..."

When Jesse clears his throat, JC realizes he still hasn't answered the question. With a sigh, he meets Jesse's eyes again, searching for a decision. "I don't know. I know that's not what you want to hear, but it's reality. Here's what I _can_ tell you." Jesse raises an eyebrow. "I don't want to hurt Lance." That's the God's-honest truth. "I respect what you have with him." Jesse gives him a slight nod, and he keeps going. "I guess... if it's what Lance wants, and if you're willing to try... Fuck." He shakes his head, throwing up his hands, and it's only when he moves that he realizes Jesse's been holding his hand, loosely, this whole time. "I don't. I don't have an answer. I'm willing to stick around and try to figure it out, but I can't..."

Jesse's silent for another minute, waiting for him to say something more, but when JC just looks at him he finally shrugs and gives a short laugh. "Okay. Maybe that's all we can ask, for now." He pauses for a moment, and JC would give a lot to know what he's thinking, but after a few seconds Jesse sort of smiles and says, "Welcome to the insanity, then."

"Thanks, I think," JC says. "What does a guy have to do to get a drink around here?"

***

Nick catches the dealer's eye and eases himself out of the game. He's not doing all that badly, but Lance is into it, and the stakes are steadily moving higher. Nick's down not quite a thousand, so no one's going to accuse him of setting them up, but that's exactly what he did. Of course, they kind of asked for it. It's pretty clear they all saw two boybanders playing poker and assumed the neon "Easy Money" sign was flashing over the table, but they're about to learn just how deceiving appearances can be. Nick learned it a couple of weeks back, when the three of them went to poker night at Wendy's and Lance efficiently cleaned everyone's clocks--and most of the people there knew him going in.

Nick smiles at the waitress who appears as soon as he steps away from the table, and asks for a beer for himself and a Jack and Coke for Lance. Lance, who's still at the table, and who's going to take every single one of the jokers still sitting there for every dime they have, because he is _on_ tonight, like Nick knew he would be. Lance halfway paying attention to a hand is more of a game than Nick is usually into, but Lance with serious money on the line and a driving need to not be thinking about his life is a thing of beauty. At least, as long as you aren't looking across the table at him.

The waitress is back in record time, and Nick has her swap out Lance's barely touched drink for the fresh one. That's part of the strategy, of course. Lance won't do more than take a taste, but Nick's going to make sure the waitress is there often enough that the rest of the table can assume Lance is blasted.

Not that Lance needs any help; it just makes it more fun for Nick. Lance will probably bust him later for making like he couldn't do it on his own, but for now, Nick's going to sit back and watch Lance smile and nod and kick some ass.

Two beers later, it's even better than Nick anticipated. Several of the people at the table had been at the party the night before, and evidently believed the way Lance had been flailing then was his normal aptitude, and tonight was merely one of those streaks that everyone hits and that always turn. Which probably isn't entirely untrue, but Nick's seen the way Lance can run the odds in his head, even while he's chatting inanely, and all that's happening tonight is that Lance knows he's on a hot run and he's pushing it ruthlessly.

Nick tries not to smirk as he settles back to enjoy the show.

***

"Thank you, darlin'," Lance says, smiling at the waitress and passing her a chip. She flashes her dimples at him, and Nick can't help rolling his eyes. Not in a million years, sweetie, he thinks. Not with the pretty boy, or boys, waiting upstairs. Still, she helped quite a bit, so Nick drops a second, larger chip on her tray.

Lance turns the smile on Nick as he racks up his winnings, and it's so damn smug, Nick can't help laughing. "Boybands suck, eh?"

"Very nice," Lance purrs, and pushes a couple of chips at the dealer. "Very nice, indeed."

As they walk away from the table, Nick eyes the neat stacks of chips Lance is carrying. "Awesome. I need a new GPS for the big boat."

"And you got from _my_ chips to _your_ GPS how?"

Nick smiles. "I don't know, man. Wait, does this sound familiar?" He drops his voice as low as it'll go, and growls, "'Fuck, Nick, lay off; I'm not in the damn mood.'"

Lance snorts; Nick ignores him and continues, "As far as I can tell, at least half that's mine, 'cause otherwise you'd still be upstairs, wringing your hands and wrestling me for the phone so you could call Lonnie and find out exactly where JC was and what he was doing to Jess."

"Don't remind me," Lance groans.

"C'mon, Bass, lighten up. You're in Vegas, baby. You rode that hot streak to death--and don't think I didn't see you smiling when you went after the jackass who was making the space jokes--there's a table waiting for you up in ghostbar VIP, and there's a seriously hot guy wandering around here somewhere who, no matter what has or hasn't happened, is gonna climb into bed with you tonight."

"Two," Lance says as he steps onto the elevator.

"Two what?"

"Two seriously hot guys who are gonna climb into bed with me tonight." Lance lets his eyes sweep up and down Nick's body, and Nick is all too happy to return the favor.

"Actually, I'd put odds on three."

Lance groans again. "This is all your fault. When they kill me, I want you to remember that you're totally to blame."

"Me?" Nick laughs. "How the hell do you figure that?"

"'Dork, think outside the box.' Does _that_ sound familiar?"

"Bass, I'm touched. Who knew you listened to me? But, dawg, I was talking about getting it on for a _night_. That would be thinking outside the box. You took it outside the... outside the..."

"Troposphere. Stratosphere," Lance says morosely. "Mesosphere, thermosphere, exo--"

"Yeah, whatever. Dude, you're like outside the universe with this one, but, y'know, I got your back."

Lance sighs and the elevator opens on their floor.

"Nothing wrong with aiming high," Nick says.

"Except it fucking hurts like a mother when you miss." Lance frowns as he reaches for his keycard.

"This one isn't a miss." Nick puts his hand over Lance's and waits until he looks up. "Swear. This one is a go."

Lance shrugs and keys open the door. Nick follows him inside, making sure the door is closed firmly before he pushes Lance up against the wall and takes his time kissing the sadness out of him.

In the background, Jesse says, "Well, so much for the party upstairs," but Nick doesn't look up until he hears the second voice add, "At least they waited until they got in the room."

Lance stiffens underneath him, and Nick lets him go to turn and see Jesse and JC sprawled on the living room furniture--separately, damn it--with a bottle of Tequila Azul on the table between them.

Jesse's smiling and relaxed, which is good; JC is smiling, too, but the look in his eyes as Lance comes around Nick is a challenge. It's discreet, but it's there, and Nick smiles back. Right now, right this very second, all this is his, and he's got no problem letting JC know it.

Lance sits a little uncertainly on the big chair next to Jesse, whose hand comes up automatically to pet him. Nick settles himself on the couch, not exactly next to JC, but maybe closer than casual acquaintances might sit, and props his feet on the table.

"So," he says, looking from Jesse to JC. "Did you kids have fun on your date?"

***

It hits JC then, when Jesse reacts so very calmly to Nick and Lance making out. He's been focused on Lance, and even with the time he's spent with Jesse this afternoon and evening, even with noticing Jesse more and more with every shift of muscle, it only now hits him that what he's being offered isn't just Lance, it's _them_. All of them.

The tequila is burning low and hot in his blood, and he's had enough of it that it's hard to remember that Lance doesn't belong to him now. He manages to bite back the growl at seeing him arching up into Nick, but when Nick's chin comes up and he smiles, JC knows Nick noticed. JC smiles back, and doesn't really bother to camouflage what he's thinking.

Nick drops onto the couch next to JC and is making wisecracks immediately. Jesse answers, which gives JC a second or two to get himself under control.

"That's good," Nick's saying to Jesse, with a quick sidelong glance at JC, and JC tries to make his brain tell him what was said while he wasn't paying attention, but he has no clue. "Well, while you boys were getting the party started, Mr. Bass was teaching some people a few lessons about making assumptions."

Jesse grins at Lance, who slides in a little bit closer, and JC says, "Assumptions?" because he's not quite ready to watch the two of _them_ start kissing, too.

Lance turns to him, head slightly tilted. "You know, sings for a living so can't possibly do math. The usual." His tone says he's pretty sure JC knew what Nick meant, and JC leans forward, refilling his glass more to have something to do with his hands and mouth than because he really needs another drink.

"You planning on sharing that?" Lance asks, nudging Jesse's glass toward JC and the bottle, and shit, this is not the Lance he remembers, not hardly. Not any of the Lances he remembers. JC pours, and it's hard to hand the shot glass to Lance without their fingers touching, but he manages it, which, on consideration, probably means he does need to drink more.

Lance takes a long, savoring sip, then licks his lips, somewhere between matter-of-fact and hardcore tease. "So, we goin' out tonight?" he asks.

"There's that dinner thing," Jesse says. "Though man, I ate so much earlier, I think I'm good for the night. But, y'know, I'm up for whatever." He takes the glass from Lance and finishes the shot, eyes on Lance the whole time.

And yeah, JC gets _that_ message. Loud and clear. He'd almost laugh at how blatantly Jesse's staking his claim on Lance, even though he _knows_ Jesse wouldn't have said no if JC had made a move before Lance walked in the door. What he can't figure out is why they're ignoring Nick. Even if Jesse's hell-bent on proving his point, JC would have thought he'd make some effort to include Nick in the fun. But now... it's all Lance.

Well, two can play at that game. JC downs half his shot, and turns to Nick. "What about you? What are you up for?"

Nick raises an eyebrow and shifts slightly on the sofa, and damn, he's big. JC raises his glass again, sipping this time, watching Nick's eyes watch him. "That depends. What are you offering?" He takes the glass out of JC's hand and touches the tip of his tongue to the rim, smiling faintly before picking up the bottle and pouring for himself. There are four more shot glasses an arm's reach away, but neither Lance nor Nick seems inclined to use any of them.

JC leans forward. The tequila is heady, spicy, and whether he's smelling it on his own breath or Nick's doesn't seem particularly important. Nick doesn't say anything; doesn't move to meet him or pull away, just waits, and JC isn't sure until his lips actually touch Nick's what exactly is going to happen, what he's going to do and how Nick's going to react.

JC starts the kiss slow but steady, licking at Nick's lips until they part. Then he closes his teeth on the swell of Nick's upper lip for a second, drinking Nick's sigh, before shifting closer, deepening the kiss to taste Nick's tongue, learn his mouth.

JC hears the glass click onto the tabletop, and then Nick's hands are on him, big and warm at his waist, squeezing gently. JC touches Nick's chest, his thigh, feeling his own body respond to Nick's heat.

Nick's kiss is dark, rich; as disorienting as the tequila. JC's not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't this, this control and even finesse. From everything he's seen, Nick likes to joke around, tease, provoke. This is a whole different kind of tease. JC's almost dizzy, the blood thudding in his ears; he's tempted to crawl into Nick's lap, press him back on the couch and yeah, Nick's leaning back, asking for it, hands sliding over his back, up to tangle in his hair, and fuck, it's hard not to moan then.

He almost doesn't notice when Lance and Jesse get up. He probably would have missed their exit entirely except that Nick breaks the kiss for a second, turning to throw them a smile as they disappear into the bedroom.

JC blinks. His cock is still hard; his lips are wet, and he can feel his pulse in both places. And Lance and Jesse just went away. To fuck.

"They need to take care of each other," Nick says.

JC sits back a little. Still touching, just... not quite as much. "They usually 'take care of each other' without you?" That might make sense. Maybe Nick doesn't mind taking second place.

Nick's laughing, though. "Not hardly. Man. I--" He shakes his head. "You'll see. Don't worry."

JC isn't so sure he will, but then again, he's here, so apparently he's willing to try. "So why--"

Nick shrugs. "You know. Sometimes... it's not all about the sex." Which JC can't help but think is an interesting observation, considering it sure seems like Nick thinks that's exactly what it's all about, but Nick continues. "Lance is freaking because of what he said this morning, and Jesse's worried because Lance is freaking, and, y'know, they need some 'them' time."

"And if I weren't here? You'd, what? Play Grand Theft Auto until they're done? Go downstairs and gamble? Do your nails?" He's being rude, but this makes no sense at all.

"Maybe," Nick says, unperturbed, at least as far as JC can tell. "It's kinda hard to say, y'know, since if you weren't here, there wouldn't be anything for Lance to be freaking about, would there?"

JC can't really argue with that.

"But you are here," Nick points out. "So..." He picks up one of JC's hands and looks at it. "You don't need your nails done. I've already handed over enough cash to the pit bosses today. And I hate Grand Theft Auto." He tilts his head, smiling. "Got any other ideas?"

JC has an idea that this whole thing is a trainwreck waiting to happen. But if he closes his eyes, Nick's kisses are still sparking under his skin, and that tequila is _really_ smooth.

He turns, reaching over to the table, and pours another shot. Same glass, of course, and he quirks an eyebrow when Nick laughs softly.

No sharing this time. He wants all of it; takes it fast, shivering with pleasure, then pours another, quick and sloppy, and hands it to Nick, licking what spilled off his fingers. Nick drinks more slowly, and when he's finished, JC leans into him and tastes what lingers on his mouth.

There's no one to watch, just Nick shifting beneath him and easing JC down onto his lap, arms and legs strong around him, hands sliding smooth and hot under his shirt. Maybe insane. And maybe plain old-fashioned good sex. Nothing wrong with that, and if it's okay with Nick, okay with Lance and Jesse, then who is JC to argue?

***

Well, this is nice. Nick's still not sure where JC is with all of this, big picture, but right this minute where he is is draped rather pleasantly over Nick's body, and his teeth are sliding down the tendons in Nick's throat, and that is fuckin' _fine_. Nick turns his head a bit, and JC takes him up on the offer, biting and sucking and oh, hell, yeah. Nick slides down further on the couch, running his hands up and down JC's back, feeling JC rocking against him, both of them hardening a little more with every movement.

When JC moves lower, nipping at Nick's collarbone before mouthing down the center of his chest, then over to rub his face against first one nipple, then the other, Nick shudders. "You're a little slut, aren't you," JC growls, and Nick could take offense, but really, why? JC's biting again, using tongue and teeth to latch onto a ring through the fabric of Nick's shirt and tug gently, and the only possible answer is a moan. "Like that, huh," JC whispers, and it's okay that he let go on one side because he's turning his head, finding the other and breathing a hot, moist tease before repeating the treatment.

"Fuck," Nick says, shifting restlessly, needfully, and JC laughs softly before going back to what he was doing, a hand on Nick's other nipple now, and it feels so good Nick can't imagine why _everybody_ doesn't get this done.

He wonders how long JC will tease him if he lies here and takes it. He wonders how long he _could_ take it. He thinks about last week, when Lance and Jesse did this to him together, torturing him, one on each side, the electricity sparking from their mouths straight to his cock until one chance shift of Lance's thigh against his was enough to bring him off, gasping and almost sobbing.

This isn't Lance and Jesse, though. Not hardly. So when JC reaches down, sliding a hand over Nick's erection and then thumbing open the button at his waist, Nick bites his lip and shifts, rolling JC onto his side, nestled against the back of the couch. JC makes a questioning noise and Nick moves down to kiss him quiet, one hand on JC's jaw and the other moving lower, repositioning him, taking advantage of the size difference for a second to lift JC's hips and put them right where he wants them. "You've got one hell of a mouth," he breathes, still feeling the blood throbbing in his nipples, and JC's smile is all teeth and not at all nice. Nick fits his hand between JC's legs, cupping, pressing, letting JC rub up into him, savoring the pleasure on JC's face. "So do I."

"Yeah?" JC says, his eyes darkening as Nick tightens his hand. "Show me."

It's nowhere near a request, but then, his original offer hadn't been much more than a tease, so Nick doesn't see any need to get spun up at the tone. He also doesn't see much reason to get right on it, especially when he's got JC rocking against him and he can watch the play of _lustannoyanceneed_ in the blue eyes. When JC catches on, he shifts, easing away from Nick's hand and body, daring Nick to make good on his words.

Nick grins and reaches back with one leg to push the coffee table out of the way. "Floor, man. If I do you on this couch, you're gonna be paying for my back surgery."

"You saying you're not worth it, Carter?" JC follows Nick as he rolls off the couch, moving with an easy shimmy of his hips that has Nick dying to pin him to the floor and deepthroat him.

Nick catches JC's mouth with his own and shuts him up that way, though it's hard to tell who's controlling what here. Nick manages to unbutton the first few buttons of JC's shirt, but with C twisting and growling under him, the last ones get ripped open, and their hands tangle at the waistband of JC's jeans.

"Yeah," Nick breathes. "You take that, man, frees me up for this." He runs his hands up the long, lean body under him, teasing his thumbs around the already hardened nipples before he scrapes his teeth over them. JC's heart is pounding; Nick can feel how it matches his own as he licks a slow path down to where JC has shoved his jeans out of the way.

JC arches up into him, breathless husky words spilling out of his mouth as Nick slides his tongue along muscles stretched taut and hard.

There's a thrill at tasting someone new, at feeling unfamiliar hands slide through his hair, tightening with a roughness that's a sharp counterpoint to the way Jesse and Lance treat him.

The impatient tension of JC's body when Nick takes him deep, all at once--and score one for Jesse and Lance, because if he weren't in practice he probably couldn't do it that fast--Nick can't remember when something like that has turned him on so much. It's different than getting Jesse or Lance off; that's something he likes just for the pleasure of giving them pleasure. This has something twisting inside him that he's not going to think about. JC's dick is hard against his tongue and palate and that's all he needs to be dealing with right now.

He backs off some after those first few seconds. He's made his point; now he wants to make it even better, so he works it, stroking JC's thighs and balls with his hands, teasing with lips and tongue, learning JC's responses as fast as he can so he can use them, feed them back. He may not get everything perfect, but he can't be doing too badly because it's not long before JC's panting and shifting needfully on the carpet, fingers knotted in Nick's hair, pulling him down hard again and again until JC's whole body shudders and he comes, so deep down Nick's throat that Nick can't even taste it.

There's a breath or two of silence, and then he barely has time to cough and wipe his mouth before JC's on him. Pushing at him, sliding him over, half-climbing on him, one hand down Nick's pants and the other restless, carding Nick's hair, caressing his jaw as JC kisses him greedily, teasing first one nipple and then the other. It's an all-out assault, and Nick's got no reason to resist. JC strokes him urgently, intent, and Nick goes with it, feeling the pleasure rise in him, the waves building, one after another, each higher than the last. JC does have a hell of a mouth, and he clearly doesn't like to be upstaged. This could be a hell of a lot of fun, Nick thinks, and he does his best to hang on, make this last, make JC work a little--make them both enjoy it as much and as long as possible. When he comes, a few minutes later, it hits hard, jolting through him, JC's tongue in his mouth muffling his moans as JC's fingers coax every possible drop of sensation from his body.

***

JC's heart slowly drops back into a normal rhythm. Nick sighs and settles more comfortably against him, and JC realizes that, unlike most of his hook-ups lately, he doesn't have to get up and leave. It's nice, in that surreal way that this weekend has taken on.

Nick's surprisingly low-key after sex. No smart-mouth comments, no in-your-face attitude, no obnoxious anything at all, just a lazy grin and an offer of the t-shirt JC half-tore off him to clean up with. JC finds himself so relaxed he doesn't even jump when Lance asks, "Did you two play nice together?"

Nick laughs once, a soft, satisfied sound. "Yes, Dad, we took turns and everything." His voice deepens. "What about you and Jess, everything okay there?"

"Yes, Dad," Lance parrots, and drops lightly onto the couch, and it's a little too weird to be lying on the floor half-naked with Nick while Lance sits above them, wrapped up in a white terry robe. JC sits up and reaches for his shirt.

"He's crashed, for a while anyway; you know how he is," Lance continues.

Nick rolls onto his back. "You look less psychotic; that's good."

Lance does look more relaxed, less strained. He smiles a very smug, self-satisfied smile. "I am a lucky, lucky man."

Nick snorts. "Good to know Jess hasn't lost his touch." Lance pokes at Nick with a bare foot, and JC doesn't know where to look or what to think or how to act. Nick knocks Lance's foot away and stretches. JC winces at the joints that pop, but Nick doesn't even blink. "I'm not doing too bad over here, either--but don't get any ideas about having worn me out, Chasez; I'm ready for round two whenever you are."

JC's got no problem picking up that challenge, eyeing Nick lazily and humming in agreement. Nick grins at him, then continues, "Anytime, man. Except now, 'cause there's shit you need to be talking about with Lance, so I'm gonna pretend to be tactful and hit the shower."

He rolls to his feet and taps Lance on the forehead. "Don't be a dork," he says, and then turns to JC. "You're staying, right? I don't have to do the 'Thanks for the fuck' thing?"

It would be easy to say what Nick's asking for, and hell, being with him was no hardship, but JC glances quickly at Lance, then away, and finally gives Nick the same answer he gave Jesse. "I... don't know."

Nick shakes his head and sighs. "Yeah, okay, well, thanks for the fuck, then; stick around, maybe next time we can do it on a bed." He closes the bedroom door behind him, and leaves JC alone with Lance.

JC clears his throat awkwardly. He stands up, turning aside as he tucks himself back into his pants. Not that Lance hasn't seen him naked a few thousand times, but... not like this. "Um. Subtle's not exactly his strong suit, is it?"

Lance makes a noncommittal sound. "So you're still not sure, huh?"

JC looks at him. So much for shifting the focus to Nick. "Are you?" he asks. "What are you--what are we doing here? Seriously. I mean, Nick's sexy as hell, and so's Jesse, but really..." The tequila's worn off and he wants more, but he thinks it would probably be inappropriate to reach for the bottle. So he stands there, stuck, until Lance pats the couch next to him.

"C'mon, C. Sit down. I won't bite."

JC sits, trying not to be hyperaware of Lance, of what he's wearing (or not wearing), of what he was doing while Nick and JC were out here. "What are you thinking?" he finally asks, making himself look Lance in the eye.

Lance nods. "Fair enough. I'm thinking..." He takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. "I didn't want you to walk away," he says. "That's all we ever do--what we've always done. And maybe that's all we _could_ do, before, y'know? But I think we could change that. Older and wiser, right?"

JC snorts softly, but Lance continues. "I thought of it. When Nick first said... I thought of it. I made myself stop and not say it then--but in the morning, I still wanted it, and I didn't know what would happen if I said it, but I didn't want to have had the chance and not at least tried."

JC swallows. "You thought of it. Of..."

"The four of us," Lance says, and he's calm, almost matter-of-fact, as if it's the most reasonable thing in the world.

JC shakes his head. "You really--"

"Yes," Lance interrupts. "Yes. Really. Why not? Okay, it's not 'normal,' whatever that means, but when have our lives ever been normal?" He leans closer, taking JC's hand, sliding their palms together, and JC can't help thinking about where his hand was, not that long ago, but Lance doesn't seem to be concerned. "We've fucked it up really badly before. I do remember, trust me. But you're still the best friend I've ever had."

JC can't help smiling at that. How could he? "You, too." God, it feels so _good_ to be like this with Lance, to be touching, to be talking again. Intimate. Good... and terrifying. "You think it could be different?" he asks.

"Yes," Lance says. "It would have to be. It's not just me, now. I meant what I said last night. If they--if either of them said no, or even _hinted_ they didn't want this, I wouldn't be here." There's no uncertainty in his eyes, no conflict. "I _want_ this," Lance says. "I want to try it; I want it to work. But... I don't need it. I used to need it, need you--God knows you told me that enough times--"

Screamed it, more like, and JC feels his cheeks heat; not some of his finer moments, but Lance's voice is gentle as he continues, "It's okay. I didn't want to hear it, but you were right. I think I've grown up some since then. Plus..."

Plus. Plus Jesse. Plus Nick. Plus everything that makes this all simultaneously insane and somehow plausible. There's nothing in Lance's eyes other than an open hope. No blinding need, no frustration, no impatience; none of the things that made JC stop wanting to look into them.

And that makes what he's being offered even _more_. Not a rehash of old mistakes, and not "just" hot sex with three different guys, but something else completely. Lance, who he loves, has always loved--but a new Lance. Stepford Lance, he thinks, except that's pretty mean, isn't it?

"Are you sure?" JC asks. "You can take it back, y'know. I wouldn't blame you." He knows even as he says it that it makes no sense. Lance isn't the one who's scared or uncertain here. And, no matter what Lance says now, there's no guarantee things won't change tomorrow, or next week, or next month.

Lance smiles ruefully. "No," he says. "I really can't take it back. I've said it, and acted on it, and I can't take that back, even if I wanted to. And," he adds, "I don't want to. If you don't want it, that's okay, I'm okay with that, but I said what I did, this morning, now--because yes, it's what I want. Even if in the end we can't make it work, I want to know we tried."

JC tries to convince himself it's a bad idea. Tries to make this rational, quiet Lance's voice remind him of the Lance he had to hold himself back from hitting sometimes, the one who pushed and pushed and took and still _needed_, no matter what JC said or did. It doesn't work, though. Lance is still holding his hand, and in the end it's not that difficult to lean forward and gently, gently bring their mouths together.

***

It's very quiet outside the bedroom. Too quiet. Nick huffs, pressing one more kiss to Jesse's jaw before rolling off the bed and going to stand by the door, listening.

"Anything?" Jesse asks softly, and Nick shakes his head. Jesse shifts, stretching out on his back. "C'mere," he says. "Maybe they're, y'know. Busy."

Nick doesn't think so. It doesn't feel right, for one thing, and he's sure he'd be able to hear _something_\--bodies shifting on the couch or on the floor, a word or a moan. He lets Jesse lure him back to the bed for a while, but the silence outside keeps nagging at him, and after a few minutes he gets up again. "I'm gonna go... get some water or something," he says.

"There's a bottle right here," Jesse points out, but it's an observation, not an objection.

Nick cracks the door, peeking out. He's at completely the wrong angle; can't see anything at all. But there's still nothing to hear.

A couple of quiet steps down the hall, and he can see one head over the back of the couch. Lance. Either JC's lying across his lap, or Lance is alone. When Lance leans forward and picks up the tequila, pouring carefully but, as far as Nick can tell, neatly, Nick stops holding his breath and moves into the room.

"Hey," he says, and Lance tilts his head. "What happened? You guys weren't fighting; even if it was while I was in the shower, Jess'd have heard you." Unless it was the cold, quiet kind of fighting. The worst kind, and Nick's stomach sinks momentarily... but he's an expert at seeing through masks, and Lance doesn't have that look, so Nick crosses his fingers and hopes.

Lance shakes his head. "Not fighting. We talked. Everything's cool." He's definitely drunk, Nick thinks, but not bad-drunk.

"Yeah?" Nick says, sitting on the arm of the couch, touching his fingers to Lance's hair. "That's good."

Lance nods and leans into the touch. "He has early stuff; an in-studio and some print interview, so he said he was gonna bail." Lance turns so he can look at Nick. "Not because of _us_, he said; just, y'know. Work."

"Yeah," Nick says. "I know." He wonders if, if he closes his eyes and thinks really loud, Jesse will buy a goddamned clue and get in here, because this is not Nick's thing. He's not good at it, and he doesn't want to say the wrong thing and fuck it all up. He pets Lance's hair a little bit more, and still no Jesse, so he takes a deep breath and says, "So, why're you out here cheatin' on me and Jess with the Azul?"

Lance shrugs, and Nick starts to think he's not going to answer, but after a minute he says, "You know what it's like, you remember. When _Millennium_ dropped for y'all, and _No Strings_ for us, and the world fucking exploded..."

Nick nods, and wants to say, _Yeah, and?_ but waits for Lance to finish.

Lance drains the shot glass. "It's so easy to blame shit on the craziness, to say, 'Hey, we were young, and it was nuts, and nothing could have survived that.'"

Oh. "Yeah. But now..."

Lance laughs, but it's not a happy sound. "No excuses." He looks up at Nick. "And the worst thing is, if I fuck up again, it's not just me this time, and I knew that here," he taps his head, "but I really didn't get it here," his heart, "until C kissed me tonight."

Kissing is good, Nick thinks, but the rest of it... he's in way over his head, and Jess really, really, really needs to come find them. Lance shifts closer, and Nick slides off the arm and onto the couch, settling Lance so he's leaning on Nick. Lance lays his head back and murmurs, "Scared."

"Yeah," Nick says. _Me, too,_ he thinks but keeps to himself. He's way too fucked up for anything as good as what he's got with Jesse and Lance to stick, but he's made his peace with riding it out, and nobody's going to take that away from him.

Lance is warm and heavy against him, not asleep or passed out, just very relaxed, and Nick doesn't think he's ever been with anyone who's trusted him like that. Howie, maybe, but it's not the same, because, well, that's Howie. Plus, that was always about Nick getting comfort, not giving.

Nick drops a kiss onto Lance's hair. "Y'know, screw the damn party upstairs. It's nothing special, right?" Lance shakes his head. "Okay, then," Nick says. "New plan. You need to stop with the tequila or you're not gonna be worth shit tomorrow, and I need food, so let's go see what's happened to Jess. Then I'll call for room service and you can, I dunno, drink something that won't induce hallucinations. Okay?"

Before he can stand up, Jesse's there behind them. "Were you listening?" Nick hisses.

Jesse half-smiles and nods. "And you left me alone with him?"

Jesse leans down to press a kiss to the top of Lance's head. "You were doing fine," he says. "Besides, you were the one who had to come flyin' out here."

"Bitch," Nick grumbles.

"Drama queen," Jesse answers.

It's simple enough to reach up and drag him over the back of the couch, to tumble him into their laps, and then, when he fights back, to wrestle him to the floor. Lance grabs the tequila out of harm's way, and he's smiling, so there's no need for Nick to stop until he's got Jesse pinned and breathless.

Jesse on his back, bare-chested and laughing, is pretty close to irresistible. Nick manages to stop kissing him after only a minute, though. "Bad boy," Nick says, getting to his feet. "Just for that, you get nothing but cauliflower for dinner."

Jesse snorts. "First off, yeah right, and secondly, what'd I do?" He holds out a hand and Nick takes it, pulling him up.

"You took control of my brain and made me kiss you instead of Lance," Nick says, frowning.

"Oh," Jesse says, rolling his eyes. "Well, then. Cauliflower it is, I suppose." He moves to Lance, who's standing a few feet away, keeping the tequila safe from the rough-housing, and nestles in close, not touching with his hands, but their bodies only a hair's-breadth apart. "Apparently I've deprived you of Nick-kisses," he says. "How can I possibly make amends?"

Lance looks amused, or confused, or something, but he and Jesse are kissing, which was pretty much the goal, and Nick nods in satisfaction before going in search of the room service menu.

***

Staying up half the night trying to figure out what to do with the weirdness that's suddenly become your life isn't the best way to prepare for an early morning in-studio, JC thinks. There are days when he really misses the guys. Chris and Justin would have covered for him on a morning like this, but today he just lets the DJs razz him about being late and tries not to answer with too many non-sequiturs.

It takes a few minutes, but he's finally getting into it--questions, fans, promo; it's got a rhythm all its own--when suddenly there's Lance on the phone, sleepy and laughing. JC has a vivid mental picture of him in bed with Jesse and Nick and it's sexy as hell. Maybe he's wrong, of course; maybe they're up already and Lance is alone, but he doesn't think so. Not from the way Lance sounds, and not... he just doesn't think so. He has to remind himself to pay strict attention to what he's saying, because what he really wants is to ask what Nick's doing with that pretty mouth right now and if Jesse's wrapped around him yet.

Lance hangs up with a final dig and a subtle reminder of what JC is now certain is going on behind the scenes, and JC finishes the interview with a whole lot more energy than he started with. He's got the performance tonight to look forward to, and really, the rest of the day is seeming pretty damn promising.

***

Nick can't remember the last time an early night paid off quite so well, but having Lance's cell ring at ass o'clock in the morning is what Brian would call a sign from God that skipping out on the party was the right thing to do. As Lance fumbles for the phone, Nick mutters to Jesse, "For fuck's sake, download him a ringtone that doesn't sound like a dentist's drill."

Jesse grunts, but nods, and Nick's pretty sure it got filed away in the functional part of his brain to be retrieved when the rest of Jesse comes online. Lance is settling in to talk, rather than getting off the phone as fast as he can. Nick figures it's business of some kind, so he takes the precaution of sliding a hand over Jesse's mouth before he starts kissing across Jesse's shoulders and then down his spine.

Lance mouths _on air_ to Nick, who nods and whispers to Jesse, "You have to be quiet, baby. Not a sound," and that's going to kill Jess.

Nick grins up at Lance, who smiles back and covers the phone to say, "JC's in-studio." Nick nods and reaches for the lube. Jesse shudders under him as he slides a teasing finger just inside. Getting fucked before he's really awake puts Jesse in an excellent, if slightly dopey, frame of mind for hours, and Nick's in the mood for a pliant boy draped over him whenever he sits down. It's a good way to spend a lazy day.

Lance laughs at something, and Nick uses the cover to push a second finger in. "Shh, baby, shhh," he murmurs, and Jesse's trying to be quiet, but it's pretty much hopeless, like Nick knew it would be. Jesse whines softly into the pillow and Nick stills his hand. "That's JC on the phone, calling from the radio station," he whispers. "We can tell him later what was going on while he was working." He crooks his fingers and Jesse jumps. "Lance is watching you, too, baby. Can you hear him? Mr. Hollywood on the phone, but he's watching you and touching himself." Lance isn't; well, he's watching, but he hasn't done anything else, but Jesse's head is turned away, so he doesn't know that. From the way his body tightened around Nick's fingers, the thought of it is making him crazy.

Jesse pushes back against him, and Nick takes the hint, fucking him slow and deep, stretching him until his hands fist into the sheets, then adding a third finger and picking up the pace. "Don't come, not yet, Lance wants you, wants to fuck you after he's finished talking to C." Jesse's gasping and panting, but he stops grinding down into the mattress. Nick's maybe a little too rough now, but he can't help himself, not when Jesse takes it the way he does. Lance is wrapping up; there's time for one last bit to jack Jesse up hard, so he'll be out of his mind for Lance. "Is that what you want, baby? You want to get fucked, want a dick up your ass and another down your throat?" Lance is done, phone safely off, so Nick can growl the last part and God, Jesse loves to be talked to. One day, Nick's going to see how far he can get him with a single finger and a whisper, but for now, Nick's ready to let Jesse suck him off while Lance fucks Jesse until he can't remember his name.

By the time they're all through with showers, it's after noon, and it's easy enough to kill the rest of the day in the casino. Nick knows Lance is hoping for his phone to ring--or for JC simply to show up--but no such luck. He's doubtless got an insane schedule today, but still, Nick sees Lance sneak glances at his display when he thinks no one's looking.

Nick's luck at craps and blackjack is spectacularly bad, so he's all for dinner and heading over to Skin for JC's show as early as possible. Once they get to VIP Nick hangs back, again, letting Lance take the spotlight. It's weird not being noticed, but it gives him a little more freedom to--discreetly--tease Jesse, so that's nice. When JC takes the stage, though, all bets are off. For one thing, Nick's curious as hell about JC's show. For another, JC on stage is... well. Sex.

From the second he struts out, Nick wants to fuck him. Looking around, he doesn't think he's the only one feeling that way. The leather pants and the cock-ring bracelet are nice touches, but what really does it is JC. Nick doesn't really care what he's singing--though he likes the first song a lot; it's not what he would have expected.

He wishes he could see Lance's face, gauge his reaction, but there's no way, not without being a lot more obvious than he wants to be. Jesse's watching closely, too, his attention divided between JC and Lance.

The second song isn't as overtly sexy, but JC's still on fire. He owns the stage in a way that reminds Nick of AJ. He _prowls_. Even when he's just bouncing, singing lyrics Nick can't quite catch enough to make sense of, he's still well worth watching. During the ballad that follows, Nick checks in with Jesse. "How's Lance?"

Jesse nods. "He's good. I think. I hope; he's gonna do a thing, after JC's set, they're singing happy birthday to George together."

JC's last song is another fast one, more sex, and he's singing about girls but Nick is dead certain JC's eyes are on Lance at least a couple of times during the less-than-subtle choreography.

***

Lance knows. JC can see it in his eyes, in the way he watches JC, in the way he follows every move JC makes on stage. Nick understands, too, which isn't surprising. JC's not sure if Jesse has caught on yet, but that's okay. All JC really needs is Lance, and Lance--even though he's smooth and professional on the outside, offering birthday wishes, singing along with JC, laughing and chatting--Lance _knows_. JC doesn't have any doubts that he remembers all those nights, tour after tour after tour, whether they were together or apart; he remembers, and his eyes promise anything JC wants.

Everything is sharp and clear on the way back up to the suite. JC would swear he can hear every heartbeat. It's only the four of them in the elevator; enough privacy that he can watch the pulse in Lance's neck, follow the sweep of Jesse's tongue over his bottom lip, hear Nick's ragged breath. Enough privacy that he doesn't have to hide his attention, but not enough to act on any of it.

Lance has the key out before they get two steps down the hall, and gets the door open smoothly, quickly, so no one has to break stride. Then they're inside, and Nick slams the privacy lock home at the same time JC pushes Lance against the wall and finally, finally gets to taste him again. Mouth, jaw, neck, collarbone; each a favorite, each familiar, and all unbearably exciting to rediscover.

JC loves the noises Lance makes, halfway between a purr and a growl, has always loved them, and as far as he's concerned what's going on in the rest of the room is completely unimportant. It's a good long time before the soft, mindless noises coming from the floor penetrate his focus, but eventually he stills long enough to look down.

"Oh, holy fuck," Lance groans, and JC has to agree. Nick's sitting cross-legged on the floor with Jesse half-undressed and spread out in his lap. Jesse's head is thrown back, his eyes closed, and Nick's teasing him so he's arching up hard, begging wordlessly for more.

Nick whispers to Jesse, loudly enough that it's clear he wants to be overheard, "They're watching you, baby; both of them. Lance knows how pretty you beg, but you need to show JC." He slides his hand along the waist of Jesse's jeans, fingers dipping under the button fly, and Jesse gasps and whines. Nick grins up at JC. "So sweet, man, you don't even know. Want a taste?"

JC almost shakes his head no, but Lance shivers in reaction, and it's suddenly too hot to turn down, taking Jesse while Lance watches. JC smiles slowly, and feels the pulse pounding under his mouth as he takes one last taste of the skin under Lance's jaw. Jesse's lips, when JC drops to his knees and leans forward for a kiss, are lush and swollen, and it's only the beginning, but he already agrees with Nick.

Nick pushes Jesse into JC's arms, and JC, still hyper-aware of Lance, knows the exact instant that Nick pulls Lance down against him, feels the almost inaudible groan as Nick takes Lance's mouth hard. Jesse's murmuring against his lips, and JC needs to slow down, wants to savor every second of this, in case they--any of them--wake up in the morning and have come to their senses.

When he looks up, Lance is watching, and the focused, intent look on his face prompts JC to ask Jesse, "Does he like watching you with Nick?" Jesse nods, twisting around in JC's arms so he can kiss Lance. When they break apart, JC murmurs, "You like it when he watches." He lets his hands slide down Jesse's body, teasing him, teasing them all. Jesse grinds down onto JC, but JC catches his hips and forces him to be still. He bends close and whispers soft in Jesse's ear, "He's never seen me with anyone; we never hooked up with anybody when we were together."

Jesse smiles, and JC sees the wicked humor in his eyes. "Well, hell," he pants. "Let's give him a show."

It's strange, JC thinks. He wants Lance, so badly he can taste it. That's what this is all about, after all: getting back with Lance. Nick and Jesse are hot, but he can have hot any time he wants. So there's no rational reason for him to be touching Jesse, kissing him, sliding his hands up the smooth skin of Jesse's chest and drinking Jesse's shudders, when all it would take is a word, a gesture, and they could switch again; he'd have Lance back.

Except that Lance is watching them. Watching them so hard JC can feel it as clearly as if Lance's hands were on his body. He wouldn't have thought Lance would want to see him with someone else, even someone Lance is already with--maybe especially someone Lance is already with--but there's a lot to this new Lance that he doesn't understand yet. And okay. If a show is what Lance wants, JC can deliver. Let Lance see, and remember what he's been missing. Let Lance wait a few more minutes before he can have it for himself.

He kisses Jesse deeply, long and sweet, not making any attempt to hide how good it feels, what it makes him want. "Bed," he says. The way Jesse's responding, JC almost thinks Jesse'd let JC fuck him bare, nothing but spit and pre-come, but that's pure stupidity, and besides, the floor isn't going to be comfortable all that long. Better to break the mood now and have time to get it back.

Jesse makes a soft sound of protest when JC lets go of him long enough to get up and urge him to his feet, but when JC slides his fingers into Jesse's waistband and tugs him toward the bedroom, he follows willingly. Nick and Lance do, too, but they're not JC's responsibility, not right now.

In the bedroom, JC briefly considers making the undressing part of the show, but no. That'll take too long; he wants, he _needs_ action sooner than that. So he strips quickly, nudging Jesse to do the same, before tumbling him backwards onto the mattress. "What do you like, baby?" he asks, hissing at the first full-body skin-to-skin contact. "You like to be teased?" Jesse's body is perfect. Flawless. The way he ripples into JC's touch is enough to have JC hard and ready even if he hadn't just been onstage.

Jesse smiles at him, eyes flickering to where Lance and Nick are standing, Nick behind Lance, arms around him, one big hand splayed over Lance's chest while the other cups his cock through his jeans. It's a pretty picture, and one that makes JC's gut twist. He runs a hand up Jesse's thigh, bringing his attention back where it belongs. "You like to be fucked?" he asks. "You want me to put your legs over my shoulders and fuck you through the mattress while they watch? Want them to see you--hear you, hear the sounds you make when I make you come?" He's not stroking Jesse's cock, not yet, just rubbing his hand up the inside of his thigh, then over the crease of muscles to his hip, again and again, laughing softly when Jesse twists, trying to get more contact.

Show, JC thinks. Make this good. He bends down and licks along the same path, teasing a long shudder out of Jesse and a low murmur of approval from Lance and Nick. Simply spreading Jesse out and fucking him isn't going to be enough, JC thinks. Not the way he's feeling tonight. He wants something less mundane.

"Who did you last, Jesse?" he asks, pulling back and not touching. "Tell me. Who fucked and who watched?"

Jesse moans softly, and then answers, "Lance. Lance fucked me. This morning, after you called. And Nick, I sucked Nick off, God, _please_." He arches up, and JC thinks Nick got it only half-right. Jesse's not pretty when he begs; he's fucking gorgeous.

JC's a little dizzy at the mental image of Lance, Jesse and Nick--does Jesse mean at the same time, or one after the other? Either way, fuck--but Jesse's been good, so he goes back to the teasing strokes along Jesse's thigh and hip. "How, baby? How'd Lance take you? All spread out like you are now? Did you get up on your hands and knees for him? Or did Nick hold you down?"

Jesse starts to answer, but JC suddenly knows what he wants. He covers Jesse's mouth with his own, kissing him quiet so he can whisper, "You like it any which way, don't you? Whatever they want, that's all it takes for you to get off."

Jesse shudders under him, and JC smiles. "Not tonight, though," he says, pushing up onto his arms and sliding around to sit with his back against the headboard. Jesse half sits up in protest, and JC uses the momentum to pull him along, lifting and turning him so he ends up straddling JC, his complaint muffled against JC's mouth.

"Tonight, you have to talk to me," JC says, when he has Jesse settled exactly how he wants him. "Tell me what _you_ want. What you like. Show me." He runs his hands up Jesse's thighs and lets his thumbs meet across Jesse's hipbones. Jesse's cock bobs, trying unsuccessfully for contact, and JC chuckles. "What do you want me to do to you?" he asks.

Jesse twists, looking for Lance, and JC raises one hand to cup his jaw and turn him back again. "Over here," he says. "They're watching, don't worry. Everybody's gonna see how pretty you are. But they had you earlier. This, right now, this is you and me."

Jesse takes a breath, like he's going to say something, but then he nods. "Okay," he says. "Okay, you want--you want to know what I like?"

JC nods, holding Jesse's focus, waiting. Jesse licks his lips, the muscles of his thighs bunching, flexing. "I like," he says, "I like being fucked." Stop the presses. Like anybody in the room didn't know that.

"Yeah, that's good," JC says encouragingly. "And what else?"

Jesse looks down, a faint blush high across his cheekbones. "Kissing," he says, as though it's the most deviant thing in the world, and maybe it is when there's a naked man in your lap and acres of hot, smooth skin to touch while you take your time tasting his mouth, until you're both breathless and shivery. "Yeah, like that," Jesse says against JC's mouth.

"Is that all?" JC asks. "That's it, we're done now?"

"I like being fingered," Jesse says in a rush. "I want--I want you to do that to me." He's moving a little already, rising and falling, probably not even aware of it himself, but it's got JC ready to growl.

"You want to fuck yourself on my hand?" JC asks. "You want me to kiss you while I do it, want my tongue in your mouth and my fingers in your ass?"

"Oh," Jesse breathes. "Yes. Yeah. Please..."

"Hmm," JC says, pretending to think it over, playing up the tease. "Okay." Jesse grins, leaning forward eagerly, and JC continues, "But first, I want you to show me _exactly_ how you like it. Will you do that for me?" Jesse can't say no, isn't allowed to, and JC's gratified when he realizes it and doesn't protest, just sucks in air and nods. "Good," JC says, and kisses him, soothing away the tension in Jesse's pose, or maybe replacing it with a different kind.

There's a soft _thud_ on the bed, and JC reaches out to find a cylinder of lube by his hip. "Thanks," he says, not looking away from Jesse. "See? They're still here. They want to see you, too. But they've seen you do this before, huh? Or are they too impatient, can they not wait to touch you themselves?"

He's pretty impatient himself, to be honest. Impatient to touch Jesse, impatient to be inside him. He palms his cock, the pressure calming and teasing simultaneously, and closes his eyes for a second, feeling the heat in his own body. When he opens his eyes, Jesse is still looking at him. Waiting.

"Here," JC says, thumbing the lube open and spilling some over Jesse's fingers. A few drops land on his own skin, and it's tempting to put them to good use, but later. Soon. "Go on," he says, licking into Jesse's mouth one more time. "Show me, baby. Show me what turns you on."

Jesse's eyes widen a second, then close, and he tilts his head slightly as he slides his hand down, the heel of his hand pressing against his shaft for a second as he reaches lower. He teases himself at first, hips moving in tiny circles, teeth biting into his lower lip until JC can barely resist the urge to coax it free, then sucking in a sharp quick breath and starting to rock slowly.

"Oh, baby," JC breathes. "You are so sexy." He runs his hand down Jesse's arm, over his wrist, pausing briefly to feel the hard flex of tendons. He can't stop, though, and after only a few seconds, his hand is drifting further, skimming lightly, until he's right there, pressing slowly inside, still following the line he started at Jesse's shoulder.

Jesse makes a low, startled noise and stares at JC, eyes half-open and unfocused. JC stops moving, and murmurs, "Shh, shhh, it's okay; you're okay. You can take two, I know you can, and I want to feel you. Can I do that?"

Jesse nods, still dazed, and JC kisses him, long and slow, coaxing him to relax. He rocks his finger deeper and deeper, swallowing each whimper until Jesse starts moving again, fucking himself on both their hands, and JC is moaning with him.

"Oh, that's it, baby," he murmurs. "So hot. You're sexy as fuck, you know that, don't you? You're gonna feel so good on my dick." Jesse shivers, his hips twisting. "You'll like that, won't you?" JC says, crooking his finger and rubbing, grinning when Jesse's head falls back and he groans.

Without Jesse's eyes to look at, JC becomes aware of the rest of the room again. Lance and Nick are still close together--he wonders which one of them threw him the lube--and JC's sure Lance is grinding back against Nick even though they're both looking straight at him.

It's still surreal, watching Lance with someone else and not wanting to kill him. Either him. Both of them. And it's that much _more_ strange to be watching Lance with someone else while Lance watches _him_ with someone else. With someone else Lance is in love with.

He swallows hard. Oh, fuck. This is going to go up in flames; he doesn't see any other possibility, and if he weren't such a selfish bastard, he'd walk away now, before it gets any worse, but he can't turn this down. Anyway, he's the one who'll most likely end up alone, so what the hell. He looks at Lance a long moment, trying to figure out what he sees in those familiar eyes, and then turns his full attention back to Jesse.

"Hey, baby," he says, and Jesse's eyes flutter open. JC slides his finger out, brushing a kiss over Jesse's mouth to quiet his protest, and spills out some more lube, slicking his fingers. "You ready for more?" he asks. "It's so hot, isn't it? Touching yourself while I touch you? It's sure as hell hot for me." He strokes down the curve of Jesse's balls, teasing briefly before pressing in again, two fingers this time along with Jesse's one. Jesse gasps, and JC smiles. "What about me, you gonna touch me?" His cock is hard; he can feel his pulse in it. He could touch himself, of course, but he'd rather have Jesse do it.

"Oh," Jesse says, blinking. It's beautiful, really, how deep he is into the pleasure, how he can let himself go. At the same time, JC wouldn't mind having a little of that attention directed toward him. "Yeah," Jesse breathes. "You. Um." He shifts his balance slightly, reaching forward, and now it's JC's turn to have his breath catch at the first touch of Jesse's hand: strong fingers wrapping around him, sliding gently at first, then firmer. "How do you like it?" Jesse asks. He's matching his rhythm to the pace of their fingers inside him, and that's nice, so nice. Not so much a tease as a taste, a promise of what's coming later.

"That's good," JC purrs, rocking up into Jesse's touch. "God. Yes." He'd put the urgency aside, shunted it off temporarily while he set up this scene, but it's back in full force now: the energy, the hunger. He presses his fingers up hard into Jesse, and he's pretty sure his need shows in his smile, but that's okay, because Jesse's moaning, fingers tightening around JC's cock, every inch of his body broadcasting that he's ready for more.

Nick and Lance, of course, can read Jesse even better than JC; when JC looks over Jesse's shoulder, Nick's already moving across the room to hand him a condom, and JC's surprised at how _not_ intrusive Nick's presence feels. Nick's holding Lance's hand, so when JC takes the packet from him they're suddenly all connected. Lance smiles at JC and shakes his head, his expression so clear that JC can almost hear him saying, _Lord, will you look at us now?_ in that rich, smooth, amused tone JC loves, and he can't help smiling back.

Nick kneels on the bed to touch Jesse's face. "Hey, there, Jess," he says as Jesse starts, as though he only just then noticed Nick's presence. Nick laughs at him, but presses a kiss to his forehead to take the sting out of it. "Having fun?"

"Oh, yeah," Jesse purrs, and does some slow, full-body ripple that JC can't fucking wait to feel when it's his cock inside Jesse rather than his fingers. "Definitely."

JC twists his fingers, driving as deeply as he can, while he smiles and promises, "Just the warm-up, baby. Just the warm-up."

***

Nick's not exactly sure how he feels about watching JC all over Jesse. It's hot as hell, no doubt about that, and he knows how well JC can use his mouth and hands, but it's... odd. He can't quite bring himself to let go of Lance, even after he settles himself on the bed with the other two. That's not a bad thing; Lance in his arms is never going to be bad. It's just not how he's ever been with anyone before. He's never felt possessive like this, and now's probably not the best time to be figuring that out, not after he's set all this crap in motion.

Better to simply enjoy the moment, because, _fuck_, he's had Jesse exactly like this, arched up over him, easing himself down, and it's almost as amazing to watch as it is to feel it. He and Lance end up next to JC's legs, Nick behind Lance with his arms around him, both of them behind Jesse so they don't get in the way.

JC's not letting Jess get away with anything. They're doing things exactly how JC wants them done, and when Jesse tries to alter that, Nick can see JC's hands tightening on Jesse's hips, forcing him to be still. Jesse wants to be moving, Nick knows that, but that's not what JC wants, and he's not letting himself be distracted by anything Jesse tries.

JC talks constantly, a low, rich murmur that weaves in and out and around all of them, tying them together, and that's another thing Nick can enjoy. "Don't worry, baby," JC's saying. "I'll take care of you. I'll take _good_ care of you." He rocks upward, barely a tease compared with how Nick knows Jesse likes it, laughing when Jesse growls. "Patience," he says, but he moves his hips again, harder this time, and Jesse relaxes somewhat.

"Yeah," Jesse sighs, "Fuck, fuck... please..."

"That's right," JC says. "Tell me what you want. Tell _them_ how it feels. They're looking at you, baby. Watching me, but mostly they're watching you. You like to be watched, huh." He thrusts up again, sharp, and Jesse gasps in pleasure. "We're gonna give 'em a show, aren't we?"

Jesse shivers. "Yeah. Yeah," he says, his voice already going soft, unfocused. Nick knows what Jesse's face looks like right now, knows what JC's seeing. And feeling. Jesus.

Lance shifts, making a needful sound. He leans forward a little, and Nick hesitates, not sure whether to reassure him or hold him back. On the one hand, Lance knows JC better than any of them, but on the other, the two of them have enough baggage for an entire tour bus.

Jesse solves the problem by turning slightly. "Lance?"

That's all it takes; Lance moves, one hand coming down on JC's thigh, the other reaching to cup Jesse's jaw, pulling him into a kiss. Jesse moans, his body twisting as JC fucks up, hard, making his presence very clearly known. Nick can't decide whether to hold his breath in case everything falls apart right here and now--talk about playing with fire--or just be plain out-of-his-mind horny.

After long moments, Lance lets Jesse go with one last lick, then presses up close to his back and leans over his shoulder to kiss JC with every bit as much passion, and "horny" wins. JC moans, low in his throat, and Nick can't help thinking how beautiful the tangle of bodies is: JC and Jesse wrapped around each other, Lance curving over Jesse to taste JC.

"Nick," Lance says, breaking the kiss and shifting back so Jesse can start moving again. "C'mere." Nick slides closer and lets Lance kiss him, too, slow and deep, as if Nick were the only other person on the bed. When Lance lets him up for air, JC is watching him, watching _them_, but he doesn't look like he wants to tear Nick apart. On impulse, Nick stretches up and passes the kiss back to JC, barely repressing a shiver when JC's hand slides along his jaw and back to thread through his hair.

If Nick thought this scene was hot before, it goes off the scale when he realizes Lance is showing JC how to jerk Jesse off without letting him come. Nick lies back and watches their hands moving together, listens to Jesse's increasingly desperate groans, and shoves his jeans down so he can wrap his hand around his own dick and match the teasing rhythm they're using on Jesse.

It's so fucking good, just with his own hand, Nick thinks Jesse must be half-crazy between this and the way JC's got him moving. He's watching Jesse, Jesse's watching JC, Lance is grinding into Jesse's back and JC... JC says, "Carter, I owe you a blow job. You back off now, and I'll make good on it as soon as I finish with your boy here."

Nick's knee-jerk reaction to the utter command in JC's voice is to want to get himself off as fast as he can, but he manages to not be a completely stupid fuck, because who in their right mind would turn down an offer like that?

***

There's a second when he doesn't think Nick's going to go for it. But then Nick licks his lips, and his hand slows; JC can see him squeezing tight, tight enough to add an edge of pain to the pleasure, and that, the idea of how that feels, combined with the agonizing glide of Jesse's hips and the heat in Lance's eyes, is almost enough to send JC over the edge. At least the position he's got them in keeps him from being able to thrust as hard as he'd like. He suspects if he were on top, Jesse's heels in the air, hands gripping Jesse's ankles as he--oh, fuck, that's not even safe to _think_ about; he gasps, his body shuddering, and Jesse moans needfully in response.

"You ready, baby?" JC asks, because he sure is, and he can't, he _won't_ lose control in front of the three of them. He focuses on Jesse again, smiling when those pretty eyes meet his. "You're amazing," he says. "So sexy."

"Please," Jesse says, without hesitation. "Please, God, fuck me." He lifts himself a little higher, rocking down faster, testing to see if now, this time, he's allowed, and JC nods and meets him halfway, matching his movements, thrusting into him harder, harder, feeling the muscles in his hips burn as he tries to make them work in ways they're not supposed to.

"Yeah," JC says, trying to keep his breathing regular, "Fuck yourself, take it, show me how you like it." Jesse's speeding up, moaning with each breath, the tip of his tongue sliding out to wet dry lips, and JC can't resist; he leans forward, pulling Jesse close, hands tight on Jesse's hips, guiding their movements deeper, harder, while he kisses him just as deep and hard and dirty. Jesse's cock is trapped between them now, sliding against JC's belly, and it's good, so good, close and closer and when JC feels Jesse start to shoot, hot and wet against JC's skin, his body clenching around JC, JC closes his eyes, head bowed against Jesse's neck, and lets himself go.

When he can see again, when the energy rocketing through his body ebbs back to a simmer, Lance and Jesse are kissing. "So beautiful," Lance is whispering, "Love you so much." JC's cock is still deep in Jesse's body, but Lance doesn't seem to see anything strange about the situation at all.

"You good?" JC asks Jesse, relaxing his fingers and petting where they've been biting into Jesse's skin.

"Mmm," Jesse answers, turning from Lance for a moment to give his mouth to JC. When that's done, it seems natural for JC to kiss Lance, completing the circle, and in the warmth of afterglow, it's not difficult to concentrate on how good it feels and not think about anything else.

"Fuck," Nick says hoarsely. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_, that was hot; you so owe me, Chasez. Stop making out with Lance, and get your mouth on my dick."

Lance laughs against JC's mouth, and murmurs, "Time to put your--well, your mouth where your mouth is, I guess."

Jesse groans and mutters something incomprehensible, at least to JC, but Nick says, "Translated from post-orgasmic Jesse-speak, that means, 'I love you, baby, but the lame wisecracks have got to stop.'" Jesse nods faintly, then hisses as JC slips free.

JC brushes his mouth over Lance's one last time, savoring the taste and feel for a few more seconds, then shifts Jesse off him and stretches his legs gratefully. Nick looks like he's running out of patience, but JC takes the time to clean himself up a little before he slides down next to Nick.

Time for Act Two, JC thinks, and starts with a long, leisurely kiss. He's in no hurry, even if--maybe especially since--Nick is practically vibrating with sexual tension. He takes his time, licking into Nick's mouth, sucking a small bruise onto his collarbone, getting briefly distracted by the rings in Nick's nipples, and tongue-fucking his navel before sliding lower to tease with tickling licks behind his knees and then half-biting, half-kissing a path up the tender skin on the inside of Nick's thighs.

By the time JC's tracing his tongue along the curve of Nick's hip, Nick's stopped cursing in favor of harsh panting breaths and gritted teeth. JC thinks he could get Nick to beg if he wanted, but he's feeling fairly mellow right about now, so instead of backing off and starting all over again, he bites down lightly on the point of Nick's hip, to get his attention, and asks, "You ready to get this started, Carter?"

"Sometime this century would be nice, yeah," Nick grits out. JC smiles and gets down to business.

***

This may have been a mistake. He's so fucking close already; was close even before JC started licking and biting his way over Nick's body like Nick was some new kind of appetizer or something. Now that JC's mouth is where Nick wants it, Nick's afraid he may not last more than a few seconds. And really, that would be a shame, because JC is as good at this as he is at singing.

Nick leans back on his elbows, staring up at the ceiling, trying to keep his hips still. JC's setting a good rhythm, steady but not too fast, fingers stroking Nick's balls, rubbing behind, and Nick thinks he's doing pretty well at not moaning _too_ often until there's a low murmur off to his right, and then Jesse slides in at his side, licking lazily at Nick's nipple, while Lance moves around to suck on the other.

It's like being hit by a train. There's no fighting it--no slowing it, even; all he can hope to do is ride it out, his body arching off the mattress, feeling his cock hit the back of JC's throat, JC's mouth wet and hot and tight and perfect as wave after wave of light explodes behind Nick's eyelids.

When he comes back to full awareness, there are soft lips against his, and he's not surprised when he blinks and Jesse's looking back at him. Not surprised, and not unhappy; Lance might have wanted Nick to say something, but Jesse's still blissed out enough to be satisfied with nonverbal contact. Nick willingly kisses him back, savoring the taste of Jesse's mouth, the warm weight of his body half atop Nick's, the soft sounds he makes as they move together.

He's not sure how long it is before he becomes conscious of other sounds, other movement. Jesse tilts his head at Nick when Nick sits up to get a better view, then fits himself against Nick's side, one arm propped behind Nick's back, the other stroking Nick's thigh, petting. Nick doesn't like to think he needs the reassurance, but he doesn't object. And the calm Jesse's radiating, even if it's mostly just from being well-fucked, does help him keep from thinking too hard about the implications of what he's watching.

JC's on his back, legs up so he's bent almost double, and Lance is moving over him, fucking into him slow and smooth, whispering against JC's mouth with every stroke. JC's straining up, meeting Lance's kisses and absorbing his thrusts like it's what he was born to do. JC's been so firmly in control up to now, it's a little bit startling to see him give it up like this, but then again, Nick realizes he doesn't know that much about how JC and Lance are together.

It hits Nick then, how much he's got invested in this thing with Lance and Jesse; how much he cares already, even after not so long of a time. He doesn't think he reacts; doesn't mean to, anyway, but Jesse leans in closer and presses his mouth to Nick's shoulder. Nick turns, and Jesse smiles at him, stretching up for another kiss.

Nick finds himself holding on to Jesse like he's drowning, which would be when most everyone else he's ever been with would start backing away, but Jesse wraps himself tighter around Nick, kissing him with an intensity that successfully blocks out anything else that might be going on in the room. He only lets go to stumble into the bathroom for something to clean everyone up with, and he's back in Nick's arms almost before Nick has a chance to miss him.

A hand slides into Nick's hair and he jumps, turning to see Lance smiling at him through sleepy eyes. Lance pets him, then reaches out to touch Jesse's hand where it's lying on Nick's shoulder. Jesse laces their fingers together and presses closer to Nick. JC's curved around behind Lance, and Nick thinks he looks about as surprised as Nick feels that everything's so peaceful. Nick reminds himself that he's just going with this thing, so he closes his eyes and lets Jesse's deep, even breathing lull him to sleep.

***

JC didn't really think he'd be able to fuck Lance without either of the other guys waking up, but _not_ fucking Lance when he's curved into JC, warm and naked, half-asleep in the morning light, was simply not an option. And if Lance has no objections, there shouldn't be any problem, right? Still, when Nick moves, first leaning forward to kiss Lance and then stretching further to kiss JC, JC almost pulls away at first. It's... not what he's used to, that's for sure.

On the other hand, if he's expecting any of this to be what he's used to, he's going to fuck this up before it even really gets started, so it's probably good to have a tangible reminder that this isn't only about Lance; that he can't forget the others, no matter what.

It would be easier if he could forget about them. He knows how to be with Lance. Okay, maybe what he mostly knows is how to screw it up, but at least it's familiar. This, though... this is somewhere beyond alien and approaching incomprehensible.

He understands group sex for fun. More bodies; more to touch, more to lick, more sensation to get lost in--that makes sense. But having Lance watch him--and smile--while he's fucking someone else, having Lance kiss him while he's buried deep inside _Lance's boyfriend_. Or fucking Lance and having Lance kiss someone else at the same time, all that's new and different and part of him really wants it to go away. Wants Lance all to himself, private and alone--or wants simply to run, get out of here and not look back.

He can't have the first, though. And while he's still not sure the second isn't the best idea, he knows he'd better not make that choice too soon, because odds are he won't get another chance if he finds out he was wrong. So he kisses Nick long and deep, trying to be aware of all the ways kissing Nick differs from kissing Lance: the different shape of Nick's mouth and teeth; the slightly different taste; the sounds he makes, soft light moans. Is that from the kisses, JC wonders, or from the way Jesse--spooned behind Nick, mirroring the way JC is curled around Lance--is touching him? He can't tell, and doesn't know Nick well enough to guess.

Lance is making sounds, too, breathing hard in rhythm with JC's thrusts. And, after not too much longer, talking. "Oh fuck, God, JC, so good," he moans, and then whispers, "Nick, love you, thank you..." JC would expect Lance's eyes to be closed at this point, expect him to be focusing inward, riding the pleasure out, but when JC turns his head slightly he sees Lance looking back at him. Just then Lance's body jerks slightly, and when Lance groans low and deep, JC realizes Nick's reached down and is stroking him. No, not Nick. Jesse. Because Nick's shuddering too, the expression on his face shocked and helpless, and Jesse's murmuring in his ear, too quiet for JC to make out the words even from inches away.

Lance comes first, and then JC's watching Nick, kissing him again, unwilling to give up that control and that focus, though it only takes a few more thrusts before the combination of everything is enough that he slides over the edge, feeling Lance arch back against him as he buries himself deep.

When he opens his eyes again, Lance and Nick are kissing. Soft and languid and so loving it makes JC's throat hurt. His cock is still mostly hard inside Lance, and Lance's hand is on Nick's jaw, a caress JC can feel on his own skin. Jesse's whispering to Nick, pressed close, but when he notices JC watching, he reaches over to touch JC's face, and if it's not quite Lance, and if he's not sure exactly what it means, JC still finds himself relaxing into the touch.

True to everything JC's heard, Jesse's draped bonelessly over Nick's back, half-asleep before Nick and Lance even stop kissing. With what looks like the ease of long practice, Nick shifts around until he's comfortable, never disturbing Jesse. He mumbles, "Too fucking early to get up for good," and dozes off.

Lance is awake, though, and JC's not going back to sleep, so this is as good a time as any to try to talk things out again. He shifts back, tugging on Lance's hand, and Lance follows him easily enough. After a brief (though highly pleasurable) detour to shower together and then get dressed, they're out in the living room of the suite with the door to the bedroom firmly closed and nothing to distract them.

Lance looks at him and sighs, and JC has to laugh, because finally, there's one thing that feels familiar. Lance's mouth quirks up in a half-smile, and he shakes his head. "I know, I know. I still don't like to talk about stuff. But I'm the one who started this. So if it makes you more comfortable, we can talk until we're hoarse."

And that's different enough that JC doesn't know how to respond, and he ends up shaking his head sheepishly.

"Want me to start?" Lance asks, and then rushes ahead without waiting for an answer. "Thank you for last night--"

"Okay, wait," JC interrupts. "I think I'm the one who should be thanking people. Last night... I don't know what to think about last night, and this morning, except that it was really good. And strange. But, yeah, _good_."

"I know you're not sure about this," Lance says. "But I don't think things would have worked out as well as they did if you hadn't been honestly trying to give this a chance, so shut up and let me say thank you."

JC laughs at the exasperation in Lance's voice, and accepts the quick kiss Lance gives him, then groans as his cell phone rings. He doesn't even have to look at the display to know it's Carlos with his reminder call. "I've got to get to the airport," he says apologetically. "I really wanted to figure out what, y'know... But I guess it'll have to wait."

Lance nods and kisses him again, and JC's on his way to the door when he suddenly remembers Nick and Jesse. "I'm just gonna..." He gestures toward the bedroom and feels a little unworthy of the unabashed pleasure in Lance's eyes.

As soon as JC leans on the bed, Nick blinks awake. "I gotta roll," JC says. "Just came in to say good-bye." Nick nudges Jesse, poking him until Jesse slaps at him.

Nick laughs. "Wake up, goof. C needs to get going."

Jesse opens one eye and JC, on impulse, leans down and kisses him, murmuring, "Thank you," as Jesse touches his face again.

Nick arches an eyebrow at him as he stands up and says, "Better in a bed, yeah?"

"My back thanks you," JC answers, and for whatever reason, ends up bumping fists with Nick.

"Dude," Nick laughs. "My dick thanks you."

"Classy, Carter."

"You know it, man. Us Backstreet Boys are all about the good manners."

JC shakes his head, and turns to Lance. "I wish..." he starts, but Lance cuts him off.

"You can tell me what you wish when you get back." JC blinks at him, and Lance raises an eyebrow. "You are coming back, right?"

JC shakes his head, but it's not a _no_ so much as... too much. "Yeah. I mean. Shit." He shrugs helplessly. "I've gotta go. But we'll talk. I guess. And figure out... what the hell is going on here."

Lance doesn't look completely satisfied by that, but he nods. "Okay. But remember, this wasn't a one-night thing."

JC isn't sure what to say to that, but if he's not careful, Carlos is going to show up in person, and JC _is_ sure he doesn't want to have _that_ conversation this morning, so he smiles and takes the time to brush his mouth over Lance's one more time, quickly, and then he's out the door and heading for his room, hoping Carlos has already packed for both of them.

***

Nick doesn't think he's tense, but when Jesse looks at him sharply--far more awake than Nick had given him credit for--then pokes him in the side, Nick huffs out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "You okay?" Jesse asks, and Nick nods automatically. Jesse shakes his head and turns to Lance. "C'mon back to bed. It's still early."

Lance is fully dressed, and Nick expects some argument, or at least a demand that they order coffee, but after a moment in which no words are spoken but Nick gets the impression a lot more is said than he hears, Lance sits back down on the bed. "You're getting lazy," he tells Jesse, smiling and leaning down to kiss him. "Shouldn't you be in the gym by now?"

Jesse makes a rude noise, then shifts over so Lance can kiss Nick, and they're not always the most subtle guys in the world, but Nick's not so stupid as to argue about it when he's got Lance in his arms and Jesse warm and naked next to him.


	7. Interlude - Los Angeles - September 2003

**September 6, 2003**

Lance watches Jesse peek discreetly at his cell phone, checking one more time for messages, and says, "Okay, that's it. I'm calling him."

Jesse doesn't argue, which Lance takes as a sign that he's waited too long, that he could have called Nick an hour ago and not have gotten much static about it.

Nick picks up on the first ring, and Lance immediately wishes he hadn't put the phone on speaker before he finished dialing. The expression on Jesse's face isn't pretty as Nick answers with, "No, it is not fucking going well."

There's not a drop of humor in his voice, and Lance's planned, 'No, really, we're not checking up on you,' dies before the first word. "Have you been able to see Aaron at all?" he asks instead.

"Yeah," Nick sighs. "We were booked together. Nobody's gonna mess with that. That part, performing with him, it was great. He's so damn good on stage, y'know?"

Jesse manages a small smile at the pride in Nick's voice, and Lance says, "Yeah, well, he's been watching you all his life."

Nick snorts, but all the light goes out of his voice when he continues, "But, hell, now that we're not actually getting paid to do anything, there's no need for us to be together." Lance can almost hear Nick grinding his teeth. "I'm a distraction," he grits out. "We'll see each other again tomorrow at that charity thing in Toronto, so there's no reason for me to spend any time with him tonight."

"Nick," Lance says, and then stops, because, really. What's he supposed to say?

"No, yeah, I know, I know," Nick says heavily. "Have to play by her rules, but fuck, Lance, it feels like I'm letting her win. Whatever she says, I do, just like always."

"It's not, and you're doing it to not put any more pressure on Aaron. That's the only reason," Lance says. "Whatever happens between your parents, Aaron's lucky he has you."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm helping out so much."

Jesse's hand is tight on Lance's shoulder; Lance knows he's passed into some level of fury that Lance can only hope will never be directed at him. He says, as forcefully as he can, "You _are_. C'mon, man, the Twister Moves concert isn't high on your list of preferred bookings, and I know FAO Schwartz has a great _Star Wars_ department, but the last time I checked, you had every last action figure, so don't tell me you were going there for your shopping pleasure."

Nick doesn't quite laugh, but he sounds less off-balance when he answers, "Oh, yeah? Don't have a cow when the UPS guy shows up with a life-size Han Solo in carbonite. It'll look great at the foot of the stairs."

Jesse gets himself under control enough to joke a little about which paintings they'll have to move, and they manage to finish the call on a lighter note, but as soon as Lance hangs up, Jesse brushes a kiss across his mouth and disappears into the weight room. Lance knows he won't be out for at least an hour.

Actually, Lance is tempted to go on in there and blow off some steam himself, but if they're together, they'll talk, and if they talk right now, Jesse's liable to end up throwing things, and with free weights around that could get both expensive and dangerous, so when Lance can't fidget in his study a minute longer he changes into swim trunks and goes outside to try to find exhaustion in his own way.

Swimming's usually a good way for him to clear his mind. He can focus on his body, the drag of the water against his skin, the stretch and slide of his muscles. Today, though, his thoughts won't shut off.

It's just bad scheduling. He knows this; he should be used to it by now, but after all those years of being together whether any of them liked it or not, forced separation isn't something he's very good at handling. It's only a couple of days more, which should help, but right now Lance can only feel frustration at his inability to fix any of it.

Maybe it was a mistake to rush things in Vegas. Seize the day, he'd thought, and Nick and Jesse hadn't been saying no at the time, but now they're at opposite ends of the country and Nick sounds like he's falling apart, and JC hasn't even called since they said goodbye in the hotel that morning. At least Jesse's here, but even he's upset now, and Lance doesn't have the faintest idea what to say that might make it any better. Other than that Nick will be back on Monday, _back home_, and hopefully JC will be, too.

Lap after lap and Lance is no closer to figuring out what any of it means, much less any kind of solution, but at least he'll be tired enough to sleep tonight. It's almost fully dark by the time another body breaks the water, and Jesse swims two lengths before coming to a stop in the shallow end and waiting for Lance to join him.

"Hey," Jesse says, when Lance swims over to him and stops.

"Hey," Lance replies, leaning his head on Jesse's shoulder and getting an arm around him in return. This is perfect, _right_, and he wants it to work for the four of them so badly it makes his teeth hurt. "You okay?" he asks, and Jesse gives a little nod-shrug. Lance understands; he feels pretty much the same.

"How can spending time with your brother be a distraction? How can your _mother_ say that to you?" Jesse asks quietly, and Lance sighs.

"I know. She's--"

"Unfit?"

"You're not going to get any argument from me," Lance says. He tries not to let his body react as the memory hits him: walking down a hallway at a German radio show and stumbling--almost literally--over Nick, slumped on the floor while his mother hissed viciously at him. She'd shut her mouth, at least temporarily, when she saw Lance, but he'd heard a few words already, _Baby, coward, lazy_. Lance had muttered something, he's not exactly sure what, and kept going, getting around the next corner before stopping and trying to figure out whether he should go back. He hadn't; couldn't imagine what he'd have said if he had. Nick hadn't even looked up.

Jesse's looking at him, frowning, and Lance makes his shoulders relax, lets out the breath he didn't mean to be holding. "Sorry," he says, and offers a gentle kiss as both apology and distraction. Jesse accepts, but Lance can tell his heart isn't really in it. "He'll be home soon," Lance points out. "It'll be better then," and Jesse nods, smiling faintly. They touch a little longer, breathing each other in, but Jesse still doesn't relax entirely. After a long look, Lance says, "It's not just Nick, is it?" He half wishes Jesse would deny it, but it would be a lie if he did. Jesse doesn't even have to answer; Lance can read him so clearly now.

"C'mon," he says, taking Jesse's hand and tugging him out of the pool, not letting go until they're both in the big shower off their bedroom. Even with only minimal making out, showering together is high on Lance's list of relationship perks. It's not so much that actual sex can happen as it is the pure sensual pleasure of skin and water and togetherness. Jesse's quiet, but it's not a bad quiet, so even though it's early, and neither of them ate dinner, Lance steers them over to the bed.

When they're there, and under the covers, and slow, lazy kissing has relaxed them both, Lance says again, "It's not just Nick, right?"

Jesse smooths a thumb over Lance's cheekbone and says, "I saw how happy you were with him--" there's no doubt in Lance's mind who "him" is; Jesse doesn't have that tight look when he's talking about Nick, "--but I also remember how long it took for you to trust me, to believe you mattered to me at all, and I don't ever want you to be that hurt again."

Lance can't help but be relieved. He hadn't dared to think it would be so easy. Or, not easy, but simple, anyway. He turns his face into Jesse's hand, and smiles. "Baby, please believe me when I say I hurt him just as much." Jesse shakes his head, but Lance nods seriously. "More, even. I... God. I did not want to be gay, so much, Jess. I _couldn't_ be, I was the good kid, and it was never even anything with my parents, it's just, I had this image of who I was, and gay wasn't part of it, even while I was falling in love with him. I had a million excuses why we were sleeping together--it was the stress from the lawsuit, or that our insane schedules made it impossible to see anyone outside our little sphere. It was so clichéd, so stereotypical; I couldn't even acknowledge us to us, and that hurt him so much. And then, when I was finally ready, it was like he'd shut down some part of himself to get through that and he couldn't turn it back on, or he didn't want to, or--I don't know, but he wasn't always distant. I think I pushed him there, and then when I wanted him, when I _needed_ him, he didn't have anything left, and the less he could give, the more I needed and it was this vicious cycle that we couldn't ever break."

It's the first time he's ever said most of this out loud. Houston had been more about feelings and apologies; this is what he imagines confession must feel like. It's not fair to dump all of it on Jesse, but Lance can't see any other way to make him understand. "We were so close, before we were together, and then we _weren't_, and... it was hard." To say the least. "For both of us."

Jesse's quiet for a minute, then sighs. "He seems to have gotten over it," he points out. "And, y'know, maybe it was as hard for him as it was for you, but I didn't see that part, so you'll just have to accept that it's not as real to me as you are." He kisses Lance gently, and Lance asks himself for the thousandth time if this is a mistake, if he's risking something so precious as Jesse's--and Nick's--love and peace of mind, out of nothing more admirable than greed.

But Nick wasn't a mistake. An accident, yes, but no mistake. And Lance _believes_ JC can make their relationship better, too. They only had a few hours together in Vegas, but already he can feel things inside him putting themselves right, coming alive, things that have been wrong for so long that he'd written them off as lost forever. They make him a better person, a better man; they give him more to give Jesse and Nick, even after giving to JC.

"I'll try," Jesse's saying. "You know I will, and maybe someday I'll be apologizing to you, telling you how wrong I was, how wrong I am now. I hope so. I really do."

It's not as reassuring as Lance might like it to be, but it's honest, the way Jesse always is, and that'll have to be good enough. "You know it's not you, right?" he asks. "It's not that you're not enough. It never was." Not before, with Nick, and not now.

Jesse smiles. "Yeah," he says. "'S still nice to hear once in a while, though."

"Oh, baby," Lance murmurs, shifting closer, sliding a hand down Jesse's hot, smooth skin and chuckling at Jesse's answering gasp. "I am more than glad to remind you."


	8. Los Angeles - September 2003

_And I’ve got a wall around me  
That you can’t even see  
It took a little time to get next to me_

**September 8, 2003**

JC shouldn't have answered the door. Answering the door is almost never a good idea, but Lance's car was parked across the street, so he'd thought...

Whatever, he'd thought wrong. So now he's got Jesse yipping in his face without even a hello, and his skin feels like it's coated with grime from the flight from New York--not to mention getting up at sometime _before_ ass o'clock to get to JFK--and all he wants is to go to bed and sleep for two or three days and, preferably, have things magically un-fuck themselves while he's sleeping, but instead he's got to get over to the rehearsal space and tell everybody all bets are off, and is Jesse ever going to stop bitching, even to take a breath?

"What the fuck, JC? What the fuck?" He's verging on incoherent, and JC's tempted to walk away, go hit the shower, and see how long it'll take for Jesse to wind down if there's nobody there for him to rant at. "You treat him like fucking trash, and think that's okay? What, you thought we wouldn't _notice_ or something?"

When JC opens his mouth, he knows it's a mistake; don't engage, isn't that what Justin always says about obnoxious reporters? But he can't help it. "Since when do you have anything to say about what Nick does or doesn't do?" And oh, Jesse doesn't like that much at all, so JC smiles and keeps talking. "Maybe they do things different where you come from, but around here, a really good fuck isn't treating someone like trash. Though, come to think of it, _accusing someone of that_ kind of is. So thanks a hell of a lot for the respect."

Seeing a familiar face in the crowd around the bar had been the last thing JC had wanted. He'd deliberately avoided Suede and Lotus and all the other big name clubs, for that very reason. He wanted someplace anonymous, loud enough to avoid conversation and dark enough that if he found someone who caught his eye, he wouldn't have to worry about too many people watching. Nick had evidently had the same idea, though he wasn't making much of an effort at discretion.

"Respect?" Jesse's about to start foaming at the mouth any minute, JC's pretty sure. "Who the fuck are you to talk about--"

JC doesn't feel the need to apologize for interrupting. He'd kind of liked Jesse, back in Vegas, and was that really only six days ago? That holier-than-thou thing was there then, too, but it had been in the background, not up in his face at 100 dB. This Jesse he could really live without.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe Nick knew exactly what he was asking for--what I was asking for--and it was as close as either one of us could get to what we needed right then? And a hell of a lot better than any of the alternatives? Or, no," JC laughs, and it sounds ugly even to him. "It would have been so much better for him to have spent the night with a bottle of Jack and every hustler in the city looking to get in on the action than to have gone off with me, right? I treated him like the sexy motherfucker that he is, I wanted him exactly like he was, even if he wasn't sunshine and flowers, and that's wrong?"

"Did _you_ ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe--" Jesse can put a hell of a lot of _snide_ into his words when he tries, "Nick asks for sex because he doesn't think he rates any more than that? I'm not saying you should have ditched him, and you know it. But would it have killed you to--" He shakes his head. "Maybe it would. You said it yourself, what you gave him was the best he could hope for... from you, anyway."

"Yeah, maybe. Sorry." JC is incredibly tired, and putting Jesse in his place would be nice, but he's got things he needs to be doing, and this really isn't one of them. "I'm not sorry I ran into Nick--and I think you're wrong about him--but, yeah, maybe that's all you can hope for from me right now. I don't have the energy for this. You want to think I fucked him over? Fine. Do that. Do whatever you need to do, but do it somewhere I'm not, because I'm sick of talking to people who don't want to listen. Thanks for coming by and letting me know how fucked up you think I am. Let yourself out, okay?"

Jesse spins on his heel, takes a step toward the door, then slams the flat of his hand against it instead of opening it, and goddamn, JC can't buy a break. "Fuck," Jesse says loudly, then again, at lower volume. "Fuck. No. See," he says, turning back toward JC, still glaring but his voice more controlled now, "That's where things are different now. I would love to walk out of here, kiss your issues and your attitude and your _whatever_ goodbye, go back to Nick and put my energy into taking care of him the way he deserves--but that's not an option." He takes a deep breath and carefully stretches his shoulders in an obvious attempt at relaxation, and JC can't help rolling his eyes at the fucking _drama_ of it all.

"You're part of the deal now--right?" Jesse says pointedly. "And as long as that's true, we've got to figure out a way for that to be a good thing. Maybe your past relationships haven't made it clear, but that means not treating your partners like they're just a convenient place to stick your cock. Or your fists."

There's an instant where JC literally sees red, a haze in front of his eyes, and he doesn't quite know where this anger is coming from, why the hell he should care what this kid thinks of him, but he does.

"Where the _fuck_ do you get off?" he snarls, and damn, it feels good to let go instead of keeping a polite face on things. "You come into _my_ home, tell me I'm lower than dirt, and we have to work on _my_ attitude? I don't think so, man. Maybe _your_ past relationships haven't made it clear, but standing up on your pedestal and sneering at the rest of us isn't particularly attractive either. Also, thanks for letting me know exactly where I rank in this package deal." It's not exactly news or anything, but still, he could have lived without having his nose shoved in it. "Love you, too, baby."

"You don't think so?" Jesse snaps back, not giving an inch. "So... what? You're done? No más, you're taking your toys and going home? Or are you just planning to come by, fuck Nick from time to time, and then leave? I hate to break it to you, but my 'pedestal' and I aren't the only ones going to have a problem with that."

"Sorry," JC says quietly. "But no, I don't actually think so. No toys, and I'm already home, and dropping by to fuck Nick--or anyone--isn't my plan. Not that I've been invited for dinner, much less sex, so there won't be any problems there. I don't need to be the charity case; I don't need you to show me the error of my ways and help me to enlightenment--and I sure as hell don't need to be treated like public enemy number one because I took Nick to bed on my terms, not yours."

"You little fuck," Jesse says, icy and equally quiet. "You are. You're running away again. I told you, I told you that first day, if you're not staying then get the fuck out then. But no. You stayed. You made Lance think things could work. You made Nick think he'd succeeded. You made _me_ think maybe you'd changed. 'Don't judge me on our past,' you said, and I was okay with that. You're right, I didn't know you or Lance then. But, you little coward, if you aren't willing to fight for him now..." He shakes his head. "You are _so_ not worth the grief you're gonna cause."

It really is too much. Jesse's clearly in no mood to listen to reason, but JC can't physically throw him out, no matter how tempting the idea might be. "You were okay with that? Jesus Christ, there's a laugh. I take one step not approved and monitored by you and you can't wait to run over here and get all righteous about it. That's not a relationship, that's a halfway house with you as the warden. Every. single. thing in my life is a fight right now, and I can't deal with another one over something that has no chance of survival, not with this between you and me. It's great that Nick has you to look out for him, and Lance, too, but I'm on my own here. So, yeah, add it to your list. User, liar, coward, whatever. Keep track, you can tell them why it's all for the best."

Jesse nods. "That's nice. Make it my fault. It couldn't possibly be yours. It never is, is it? You don't have a single kind word to say about Nick that isn't about sex, but you think it's my attitude that's making this impossible. Everything in your life is a fight? Try his on for size. But no, you'd rather fuck him hard and take off."

"Jesus, will you listen to yourself? Nick deals with his shit a hell of a lot better than most people would. He likes to take care of people; he spent all his time in Vegas running around making sure you and Lance were okay. Hell, I'm not sure that's not what he thought he was doing for me in New York. It was mutual, all right? We both needed something and it was good that we found each other."

Jesse looks unconvinced, but at least he's not talking, which is a step in the right direction. "What exactly do you want from me here?" JC continues. "Spell it out. Is there a checklist? A minimum amount of conversation that has to occur before anything sexual can happen? Quite frankly, you weren't there, so whether or not we had some deep philosophical conversation isn't something you'd know. This thing with you and Lance and Nick wasn't my idea; it's insane to start with, and the timing sucks. So. Sit down and give me a fucking list of whatever it is that you think I should be doing, and I'll tell you whether I can do it and maybe I'll at least have time for a shower before the damn meeting to trash everything we had in place for a fall tour and start trying to figure out who's going to be available in three months."

Jesse looks at him for a moment, head tilted, silent. "Is that it," he asks, more to himself than JC, then nods slowly. "It is. All this... this fuckin' attitude of yours... it's about your fucking album." JC tries to interrupt, but Jesse keeps going. "You're getting fucked and so you're taking it out on whoever's handy. The sad thing is, if you'd let us care, maybe we could make it a little bit better. But apparently you're not willing to do that."

JC snorts at the naiveté and shakes his head. "Yeah, I'm getting fucked over, but I'm not following how my pointing out to Nick that the twink who was shaking his ass for him in that bar wasn't even half as pretty as what he had back home equals me taking it out on anyone," he says.

Nick had nearly jumped out of his skin when JC'd leaned in behind him and said, "Shit, Carter, is that the best you can do?" His glare had been an answer and a dare and JC had quite suddenly lost all interest in whatever charms the club had to offer. His hotel was a cab ride away, there was a bar in the room, and, from the look in his eyes, Nick wasn't in the mood for words either.

JC looks at Jesse. "Whether you want to believe it or not, you did make it better. Or, not _you_, because getting insulted over my kitchen table on no sleep isn't my idea of love and support, but Nick, yeah. He made it better for me and I made it better for him--maybe not the same way you would have, but that doesn't make it any less valid."

"Same way..." Jesse shakes his head. "You think that's what this is about? Nick's a big boy, he doesn't need me protecting his _body_. You guys want to fuck so hard you look like you've been in a fight, that's fine by me." JC raises an eyebrow at that, but Jesse's still talking. "Nick coming home and acting like he's been reminded that that's all he's good for--not fine. Not fine at all," Jesse says, tight and angry and _Finally_, JC thinks. Fifteen minutes of abuse and Jesse finally gets to the point.

"That wasn't me," JC says, giving up on the shower, because for whatever reason, he can't let this go. "Don't--" Jesse is back to sneering. "I'm not just saying that, and I'm not in denial, okay? He was already way deep in that mindset by the time I hooked up with him, and from what he said--oh, yeah, surprise, we did talk some--I think you can lay the blame squarely on watching mommie dearest work Aaron like she used to work him and not being able to do a damn thing about it."

JC's used to people who hide behind their pretty faces, not the way every emotion blazes out of Jesse's eyes, and he can read what's coming next easily. "No, we didn't have to fuck, but it was either me or somebody you don't want to even think about. For both of us, probably. And no, taking him back to my hotel wasn't anything noble or self-sacrificing on my part, but it wasn't for him, either. There were two of us, and neither of us was in a good place, but we were better, both of us, when we were done."

JC takes a breath and continues, "I know what it feels like when it goes the other way, when every single time you're together, you're worse off when you're through than when you started. Been there, done that, have the tour DVDs instead of the t-shirt. Nick and I, no matter how hard we worked each other over, weren't that."

Jesse looks at him. Hard, challenging, like he's not happy hearing what JC has to say, but for the first time since he showed up, he does look like he's listening. His lips flatten, and JC can almost hear his teeth grinding together. "He deserves better," Jesse finally says, his voice calmer now. Resigned, maybe. "Fine, maybe you didn't make it worse, I don't know--and God knows I've seen how bad things can get when he's dealing with family shit--but he's not a random hookup, and you shouldn't be treating him like he is. Even if you're in a shitty mood. Fuck his brains out if that's what you both want, but don't let it end there."

And damn, JC's sick of hearing how people in a real relationship act. "Thanks for the permission slip to enjoy sex with a consenting adult in a manner we both find appealing," he says. "I'll be sure to put it in my lunchbox." The alarm on his Palm beeps and he reaches for his wallet and keys. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go tell a bunch of people they don't have a gig to play." He thinks about the time he's spent putting together the band and auditioning dancers, and wants to put his fist through a wall.

Jesse looks like he's a breath away from accusing JC of running out again, and JC's pretty sure he doesn't want this to start up again the next time they're together. Which, he realizes, means he's starting to accept that there will be a next time, though right this minute he can't say he's thrilled with the idea. "If you're not finished, you can ride along," he says. "Fuck," laughing without much humor, "Lonnie'll appreciate the entertainment."

Jesse shakes his head. "That's okay. Go do your thing. You don't want to hear what I have to say anyway." He shrugs. "It's not about sending flowers, y'know. It's about giving a shit, and showing it. But if you'd rather play this martyred whatever role, act like you've never been anything less than perfect in your life--put me down because I'm trying to figure out a way to make this work--I can't stop you."

JC takes a deep breath before answering--and then another one, reminding himself that Lance really wants this. And, at times when he's not quite so disgusted with the entire universe, he really wants Lance. "I'm sure as hell not the only one acting perfect here, but I was serious about the invitation."

Jesse looks for a minute like he's going to say something bitchy back, but when he doesn't, JC says, "Your call, man. People who work for me are waiting, and I need to tell them before the word hits the street."

Jesse shrugs, but when JC heads for the garage, he follows.

At the car, JC hits the locks and then looks at Jesse thoughtfully. "Do you know how to get to Olive and Riverside, in Burbank?" Jesse nods, and JC tosses him the keys. "Good, you're driving. I'm so tired my contacts feel like ground glass; I'd probably kill us on the way."

Jesse drives a little more carefully on the canyon roads than JC would, but then he doesn't come up here every day. At least JC doesn't feel like his life's in danger, so he can settle back against the headrest and shut his eyes. He's not sure which is worse at this point, open or closed, but he's been doing open too long, so he'll try the other.

Jesse clears his throat after a few minutes, and JC waits for the jibe, or the question, or _whatever_, but there's nothing but silence, and then the quiet, soothing tick of the turn signal, and the next thing JC knows Jesse's hand is on his thigh, nudging gently. "Hey," Jesse says. "I think we're here. Where do I turn in?"

JC loses track of Jesse once he gets into the rehearsal studio. It's not a fun meeting, but the band and dancers take the news with an obscene black humor that leaves him feeling better than he has in days. Carlos makes sure he has everybody's contact information, and the girls all kiss JC as they leave.

As the room clears out, he sees Jesse in the back talking with Lonnie, and when he walks up, Jesse reaches into the pocket of his jeans and drops a travel pack of saline and a lens case into JC's hand. "Here," he says. "I'll drive home."

JC can't even wait long enough to find a bathroom. Lonnie laughs and holds out his hand for the lens case, and a second later JC's half-blind but he can finally blink without feeling like someone's trying to claw his eyes out.

"Thanks," he says, and Jesse shrugs.

"I found a drugstore while you were doing your thing. You didn't have time after talking to me," he answers, and JC figures that's about as close to an apology as he's going to get.

JC falls asleep in the car again, but this time, when he wakes up, Jesse's pulling in to Lance's garage. JC mutters, "I fucking suck as company these days."

Jesse snorts, "Yeah, color me surprised." He turns the engine off but doesn't get out right away, and JC thinks maybe _now_ the lecture's coming, but again Jesse surprises him, only looking at him for a second and then opening the driver's door. "You coming?" he asks, and JC reminds himself that he's been more tired than this, plenty of times, and at least today he doesn't have a performance at the end of it.

Not today, or any day soon. Shit.

"Hey," Jesse calls as they walk inside. "I come bearing gifts. Or something." The house is silent, though, and then JC hears splashes from the back, the pool.

Nick and Lance look up from trying to drown each other--or so it seems to JC's blurry vision--when Jesse pushes JC out onto the deck. Jackson races over to greet them, and JC bends down, grateful for something neutral to focus on. Lance calls out a hello, and JC can hear the welcome in his voice.

When Lance asks how long he can stay, Jesse answers, "He can't see, and I've got his car keys."

Nick laughs. "So, is this felony kidnapping or just unlawful restraint?"

Jesse hands JC a bathing suit and points him in the direction of the cabana. "No weapons involved; what does that make it?"

"An unexpected treat," Lance answers firmly, and JC's interested to note how quickly Jesse bites back whatever bitchy comment he might have been about to make.

JC changes quickly, not thinking too hard about whose trunks he's putting on. They sure as hell aren't Nick's and they don't exactly look like Lance, so he's guessing they're Jesse's. When he walks back to the pool, Jesse hands him a beer and looks him over with an appraising eye. "You two really did a number on each other, didn't you?"

"Consenting adults," JC answers, and, after a long moment, Jesse nods.

JC doesn't feel much like doing anything but sleeping, but it seems rude not even to get in the pool at all. A few minutes, he thinks--it can substitute temporarily for the shower he never got--and then he can lie out on a deck chair and close his eyes.

The water's cool when he first gets in, and he dunks his head, feeling a little bit of the strain wash away. He can't see what Jesse's doing--changing, probably, but he really doesn't care. As long as Jesse's keeping his mouth shut, it's fine by him. Though when Lance surfaces next to JC, touching his cheekbone gently and murmuring, "Nick says you're having a pretty shitty week," JC does spare a second's hope that Jesse's seeing this and choking on it.

JC thinks about New York, about fucking all night because if they stopped to breathe one or the other of them started thinking and that wasn't good at all, and says, "Him, too."

Lance nods. "One day, I'm going to do the world a favor and strangle that woman. Except," he sighs, "She's his mother and he loves her and you know all that stuff you read about kids wanting to stay with abusive parents because they think it's their fault and they can cope with it?" JC nods and Lance shakes his head. "It's all true."

"You could turn your boy loose on her," JC says. "He's pretty enough to get in under her radar."

Lance _hmm_s thoughtfully. "So, maybe this is more of a kidnapping than I thought?"

JC hates that he's going to make the smile in Lance's eyes go away, but he can't lie. "Yeah, more or less. We had, uh, a chat about me and Nick. He's not real happy about it."

Lance traces around a bruise on JC's upper arm; it's pretty hard to mistake it for anything other than Nick's hand, each finger its own faint line of reddish-purple. "No, I'm not thrilled either. I hate that you did it to each other."

"It was what we both needed," JC answers quietly.

"Then I hate that you needed it, that you had to try so hard to feel something, that being together wasn't enough to get you through the stuff you were dealing with."

He really must be tired, JC thinks, because the concern in Lance's voice makes his own throat ache. Lance brushes a kiss along the bruise and JC tips his head back until he can float.

There's a splash, and a wave slides over his face. Jesse, making his presence known. JC keeps his eyes closed, and Lance doesn't leave his side, keeps stroking his skin, gently, with lips and fingers.

Voices from the other side of the pool keep him from being able to relax fully. He wonders whether Jesse talked to Nick at all before haring off to his place earlier. All that stuff about respect and communication, but the kid doesn't necessarily seem too good at it in practice.

"Whatever you're thinking about, stop," Lance says. "You look like you've been through a war already; you don't need to tie yourself in knots too."

JC snorts softly. "It's not that easy." Once, it would have been. Once, Lance would have chosen him first, and the rest of the world a distant second. Not anymore. He doesn't necessarily understand it or like it, but he does know it's true.

"You're scaring me," Lance murmurs some indeterminate time later, and JC's eyes snap open. "I know you can sleep anywhere, but let's not see if you can float while you're out, okay?"

JC gets his feet under him and stands up, shaking his hair out of his eyes. "You wouldn't let me drown, would you?"

"Not when I've just got you back in my life," Lance answers with unexpected seriousness. "Please stay. Please?"

JC lets his hand curve around the back of Lance's head, rests his forehead against Lance's. "I don't want to mess this up for you."

"You won't."

"I'm doing a damn good job of it so far."

"I may be stupid enough to think this can work, but I'm not stupid enough to think it'll be easy." Lance leans back to look into JC's eyes. "Please stay."

Lance doesn't blink until JC nods, and then he closes his eyes and leans up to kiss him.

And this, _this_ is what he's missed. This is what he's here for. Lance, warm and solid in his arms, no tension between them except the good kind, the kind that thrums through him, only a faint echo at first, but it reminds him what they've shared, that there's good as well as bad. JC kisses back gently, tenderly, still lax with almost-sleep, and right now that's good; it helps keep the whole moment dreamlike. Peaceful. There are two other guys in the pool who may or may not be staring daggers at him, but JC can close his eyes and ignore them, let everything but Lance fade away into the smooth slosh of the water and the breeze rustling the trees overhead.

***

"Straight up, man. Do you want me to stay?"

JC doesn't need his contacts to be able to see how Jesse tenses at his words. Behind them, in the kitchen, Lance is complaining about the way Nick loads a dishwasher--which, JC has to admit, is haphazard in the extreme, but then again, he kind of agrees with Nick. If something doesn't get clean, you can always leave it in for a second round. The argument has the sound of a comfortable routine. JC wonders what part Jesse plays in it, and how long it'll take for Lance and Nick to miss him.

"I told you--" Jesse says.

"Yeah, I know what you said. But c'mon, man, you are not thrilled with me right now, and it shows. If we're going to sit around and glare at each other, I'm not seeing how that's going to do anything good for this whole thing we're supposedly trying to put together."

"I brought you here, didn't I?"

JC sighs. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean you want me in your bed. Look, you all say it just came together with Nick, but let's not kid ourselves that it's going to happen that way with me." Jesse snorts, and JC has to smile. "Right, so. I'm asking."

Jesse looks at him for a long time, and JC wonders if he's trying to figure out the sleeping arrangements for the night. He can't imagine Jesse wants him near either Nick or Lance, nor wants him next to himself either. All of which points up the utter insanity of this whole setup, but he promised Lance.

Jesse sighs, and says, "It's a big bed." JC stays quiet; he meant what he said, he's not going to mess up this life Lance has that's working fine without him. "Do you want to be here?" Jesse asks. _With us?_ his eyes say as clearly as if he'd spoken the words.

"Yes, but--"

"But?" Jesse snaps.

"But," JC repeats firmly. "Lance wants me here; Nick and I are cool--" he stares down Jesse's glare on that one, "but I've got no idea what you want."

Jesse stares back at him, no forgiveness there, but says, "If you want to be here, then, yeah. I want you here, too." There's not much welcome in his voice, but JC wants to think there's some sincerity, and it's enough for a start.

It's better than he'd hoped for, really, and he should count his blessings and shut up. He's exhausted; they should call a truce and get some rest and maybe this will look better in the morning.

"Why?" he hears himself asking, and he's _almost_ flexible enough to kick himself if he gave it a good try.

Jesse arches an eyebrow; apparently he agrees with JC that that's a really bad question to be asking. "Why?"

JC sighs, but he's started; he might as well finish. "Why do you want me here? Honestly, what possible reason can you have for saying that?"

Jesse purses his lips. At least it seems like he's taking this seriously. "Lance wants you here," he answers. And that's pretty much the beginning and the end of it, JC thinks--which is, of course, the problem.

"When we hooked up with Nick, it was only meant to be a one-time thing," Jesse's saying. "But that--it wasn't enough, we wanted more, he made _us_ more. If it weren't for Lance, I wouldn't want to fuck with what we have already, the three of us. But I'm willing to believe--or to try, anyway--to see if you can make it better, too." He takes a breath to go on, but then stops, and JC can see him biting his tongue.

"Now's your chance," JC says. "Say whatever, now. Because as soon as I hit the mattress, nothing's gonna wake me up, not when I'm like this."

Jesse shrugs. "It wasn't anything you haven't already heard."

"Yeah, about that," JC sighs. "It's sort of what I'm talking about. The mixed message thing. Just because Lance wants me here isn't going to fly for very long. Then what?"

"You being here just because you want Lance isn't going to fly all that long, either," Jesse snaps. "It'd be nice if you actually saw Nick and me as, I don't know, people? That might help."

"You gonna let me? Right now, there's a fence a mile high around you and I sure as hell don't have an invitation to join the party on the other side."

Jesse flushes, but isn't denying it, or getting angry, so JC steps closer. "There's not really a normal way to do this, is there?" Jesse shakes his head. "If you were anyone else, not Lance's lover, but the guy who came out to dinner with me in Vegas, I'd know how to act. Or if you were nothing more than the guy I'd hooked up with after the show, I'd know what to say."

"What?" Jesse asks quietly. "What would you do?"

This feels intimate, suddenly, and JC thinks maybe Jesse's as off-balance as he is. That, he thinks, would be progress. He smiles. "First one, that's pretty easy; I'd be asking if you wanted to go hang out at Sushi Roku and see how much better the fish is when you're not in the middle of a desert."

Jesse flashes a half-smile. "And the other?"

"Honestly? I'd probably be saying, 'It was great, thanks, have a nice life.'" Jesse snorts softly, and JC shrugs. "But you're not either of those guys."

Jesse nods. "I guess I'd have to say pretty much the same, on both counts," he admits. "So... what do we do? Since, like you said. That's not who we are."

They're standing so close JC can feel the heat of Jesse's body, and that's good, JC thinks. Or, at least, definitely not _bad_. "I guess maybe we both need to back off a little," he says, thinking it through as he speaks, and hoping what his brain comes up with will make at least some sense. "I don't know... maybe if we tried to stop filtering everything through what it means for Lance or Nick..."

Jesse tilts his head. "Do you really think that's possible?"

There's some attitude in the question, for sure, but it's still a valid point, and for the thousandth time, JC asks himself if this is worth it. Finally, he sighs. "Listen, I'm beat," he says. "It's been a hell of a day. A hell of a couple of days. Seriously. I need to sleep. Can we do that, will you let me do that? I'll take a guest bed at this point; I'll take a _floor_ if it's carpeted."

Jesse huffs softly and his lips curve a little. "Don't tempt me," he says, and for the first time there's that twinkle in his eye that JC remembers from Vegas. JC finds himself smiling back, reaching out to run a finger down the line of Jesse's jaw, and then, when Jesse looks at him, eyes wide, leaning in to bring their mouths together. Warm, gentle, and the faint sound Jesse makes as their tongues touch makes JC's breath catch in his throat.

"I remember," he says against Jesse's mouth, biting down softly and savoring the shudder that ripples through the space between them. "When I asked you what you liked," and he flashes to the heat of Jesse naked in his lap, strong legs wrapped around him, and knows from the sudden change in breathing that Jesse's back there, too, even though right now they're not touching anywhere but their mouths and that's so light it's only barely there.

There were other things Jesse liked, besides kissing, and JC remembers every one of them, but for now, those are better left unspoken. Knowing they're there makes this one simple kiss against the wall into a promise, or at least a hope, of so much more to come. There's no rush, no hurry. JC can't remember the last time he kissed for the sake of kissing, and it's not until Lance coughs politely behind him that he thinks to stop.

"Does that buy me a bed?" JC asks softly, for Jesse's ears only, and he's not completely joking. "We can work out terms later if it doesn't."

Jesse rolls his eyes. "Like Lance'd let you sleep on the floor." His tone is dry, but he's not moving. "Sorry about the wasted effort."

"Oh, no," JC breathes, and can't resist going back for one last taste. This time it's less dreamy, more purposeful, and Jesse meets him more than halfway. "Nothing wasted here at all."

He smiles at Jesse--and surprisingly, means it--before turning to face a smirking Lance.

"Please," Lance is saying. "Don't let me interrupt."

JC leans down and brushes his mouth quickly over Lance's. "Goodnight kisses. I've got about five minutes to get in a shower before I pass out." Lance nods and motions for JC to follow him.

Nick sticks his head out of the kitchen to say, "What about me?" and JC only hesitates an instant before kissing him, too. Once he starts, he's tempted to make it into something more, because there's no way to touch Nick and not be turned on--and he also wouldn't mind giving Jesse a live demonstration of how much Nick was enjoying this--but some combination of exhaustion and, honestly, knowing better makes him keep it brief. As he steps away, Nick grins, adding, "Don't forget to wash behind your ears or you won't get a bedtime story."

JC starts to ask if Nick ever shuts up, but then remembers the silent, grim man he fucked in New York and waits until they're a little ways down the hall before saying to Lance, "He sounds better."

Lance nods. "Not that he'll ever admit to anything being wrong in the first place, but yeah, it's not as bad as this morning."

JC looks at Lance soberly. "Last weekend wasn't pretty, Lance. I was so fucking pissed, but he was an order of magnitude over and above me."

Lance is quiet while he finds towels and a toothbrush for JC. "He's going back in the studio soon; talking about a second album. It'll give him something to positive to focus on." It's not really an answer, but maybe it's the best they can do, at least for tonight.

JC showers as quickly as he can, mostly to get the chlorine off his skin, and walks out to see Lance turning down the covers on the big bed. "Dude, put me in a guest room," JC says. "I'll cramp your style."

Lance laughs. "Baby, I know you. Once your head hits that pillow, we could have an orgy in here and you wouldn't twitch." He pats the bed invitingly. "C'mon, nice fresh sheets. Egyptian cotton. Softer than silk."

"Pusher." JC yawns. "You wouldn't, though, would you?"

"What?"

"Have an orgy on top of me."

Lance laughs again--an open, happy sound. "No; in your honor, all orgies will be held in other rooms tonight."

"Jerk," JC says as he climbs into the bed, and then can't hold back a moan of pure pleasure. "Never mind," he mumbles. "I forgive you, this bed fucking rocks."

"Hedonist," Lance says fondly, but JC's too close to asleep to think of an answer. The last thing he remembers is Lance dropping a kiss on his forehead. When JC dreams that night, the kiss is always there, a quiet shimmer in the dark.

***

**September 9, 2003**

The only person JC can find the next day is Nick. That's not exactly surprising, since he doesn't move until well after noon, and even then he considers sleeping for a while longer. He showers again, and finds that someone has washed the clothes he'd been wearing, leaving them folded neatly on the chair by the bed. Lance? Jesse? The lens case Jesse'd scared up had been on the bathroom counter, so he's not blind anymore, though the lenses could use a good cleaning.

Nick's out by the pool, on the phone to Howie, making plans to meet up on what sounds like an upcoming trip to Florida. JC hesitates at the door, but Nick motions him out, so he settles himself in the shade of the table umbrella and lets Nick's voice wash over him, trying not to eavesdrop. True to form, he's half-asleep in seconds, not waking until a hand touches his arm and jolts him out of the doze.

"Sorry, sorry," Nick says. "Why don't you go back to bed?"

JC shakes his head. "Need to move and maybe eat," he says. "Where is everybody?"

"Working," Nick says, and JC laughs at the exasperated tone. "It's Tuesday, in case you lost track, and around here, nobody takes a day off unless it's planned six months in advance." Nick shakes his head. "I'm working on 'em, though. At least Lance didn't go in to the office until eight, and Jess held off on whatever the hell he's got going on until ten."

Nick's big and solid, and he's close enough now that JC can see where the smooth golden tan is broken by carefully designed ink and thoughtlessly placed marks from his own hands. And mouth, he thinks, as Nick turns away to drag a chair closer to prop up his feet and JC gets a look at his back. The hotel room in New York had been elegant and serene, an ironic background to the memories that go along with the scratches and bruises and bitemarks.

JC leans forward and touches one gently, then drops his hand as Nick freezes. "I'm sorry, I--"

"Nah, it's okay." Nick's going for casual and he's close, but JC recognizes the trick; Tony had taught him the same thing--how to look right _between_ people's eyes--when he first started at Disney and had been freaked at meeting fans. "You surprised me, that's all."

"I'm sorry," JC repeats. "About the other night."

"For what, man? I sure as hell wasn't stopping you."

No, JC thinks, the memory of Nick panting, _Fuck, harder, harder, don't you fucking pussy out on me,_ so sharp and clear that the sun and the deck and the water are shockingly out of place. "For not really being there," he says slowly. "If that was what you wanted, I'm glad, but we both know I wasn't paying a hell of a lot of attention. I was too caught up in my own shit to really know what I was doing."

"You were doing fine," Nick drawls.

"Well, good," JC says, adding, "You maybe want to mention that to Jesse? Before he gets to the boiling oil part of the program?"

"Yeah," Nick says, and he's blushing, which is something JC would have thought impossible after an adolescence in the spotlight. "He's uh, kinda protective. He likes to take care of people. Him and Lance, they both do." Nick looks down, clearly uncomfortable, and JC's suddenly fascinated.

"And that's not good?" he asks. "Aside from jumping me in my kitchen, that is."

"It's... different," Nick sighs. "It's, I don't know, not what I was expecting."

For whatever reason, Nick's uncertainty makes everything, the whole improbable relationship, all the more real. "It never is, man. It never is."

"Ain't that the truth," Nick says, laughing, and now it looks and sounds genuine.

They end up sitting out there for a while, not talking, Nick just outside the umbrella's line of shade and JC under it. JC's mostly asleep again when Nick stands up, scraping the feet of his chair on the cement as he moves. "C'mon, man," Nick says, as JC blinks up at him. "You said something about food, and hell, I already ate once today and I'm hungry again."

He _could_ stand to eat, JC decides, even though getting up to do it seems like too much trouble. He follows Nick to the kitchen and motivates himself enough to snag the coffee out of the freezer while Nick rummages in the fridge, pulling out paper-wrapped packages of what prove to be sandwich meats and cheeses. "Shoulda made Jess stick around," Nick mutters, gently nudging Jackson aside when he trots in looking for a handout. "Boy can cook."

JC snorts. "I think I'll take a rain check on that, thanks. Like, until I don't have to worry what little extras he might have added to mine."

Nick turns to look at him reproachfully. "He wouldn't."

JC's not so sure about that. Upon reflection, though, he admits, "He'd be more likely to put the rat poison right out there on the table, huh?"

"You mostly know what you're getting with him, yeah," Nick says. "It takes some getting used to. But seriously, man, maybe it's time for a cease fire on both sides." He raises an eyebrow. "Seemed like you and him were getting along fine in the hallway last night."

That memory brings a smile. "See?" Nick says. "Nothing to worry about."

The coffee brews while Nick puts together sandwiches, and JC does feel more functional after caffeine and food. "So, you just hanging around today?" Nick asks as they eat.

Part of JC bristles. He shouldn't have time to hang around. He should be rehearsing, promoting, working himself to exhaustion and loving it. But that's not Nick's fault, not even partly. "Yeah," he says. "I don't know how much you guys talked last night, but that's..." He sighs, looking down at his plate. "When we were in New York, that's what. They'd just told me, the album's not being released this fall after all. So my calendar's a little--a _lot_\--less booked than I'd expected it to be."

Nick nods. "Sucks, man." JC couldn't agree more. "But, y'know, the music's still good. You're still happy with that, right?" Now it's JC's turn to nod; Nick's right, he _is_ proud of the music. He hopes it'll get released in time for anyone else to still be interested, but that's not up to him. "And," Nick continues, "there's something to be said for unexpected free time."

JC snorts, turning to look at Nick. "I could, what? Learn to macramé or something?"

Nick laughs. "Well, with some of the stuff you wear... but no, I was thinking something, um. More short-term?" Nick looks at him a long moment before he starts to move, but even so, JC barely has time to run his tongue over his teeth, hoping he doesn't taste like roast beef, before Nick's lips are against his, and Nick's thumb is sliding over his chest, teasing through his shirt. When Nick pulls back long enough to murmur, "And I don't think you'll really need to _learn_," JC growls agreement and fits their mouths together again.

This time, Nick has all of his attention. In Vegas, JC'd been half-distracted by Lance and Jesse, first in the other room, then right there on the bed with them. In New York, there'd been no emotional complications but strangely little emotion either. This, JC decides, is much better. Slow, deep kisses, just rough enough to tease, and plenty of time to touch and be touched.

Nick clearly has an agenda, or, at the very least, a plan, and JC's sure as hell not going to argue with anything that ends with him braced against the table, Nick on his knees in front of him. The kitchen is quiet and bright, and Nick's hair catches the light so JC feels like he's sliding his fingers through the sun. He tugs gently, then gasps as Nick moans low in his throat, and can't stop his hips from driving forward.

"Sorry," he mutters as Nick backs off, but it's only to shake his head.

"No, do it," Nick says, breathlessly. He looks up and meets JC's eyes easily. "I can take it, whatever you've got." Then his mouth is sliding back down on JC, and there's nothing but wet heat and an easy rhythm that goes on and on and on. JC rides it out as long as he can stand, until he has to move, to drive himself deep and hard down Nick's throat, fingers tangled tight in Nick's hair.

Nick lives up to his words, takes everything JC gives him, and watching him jerk himself while he's got JC down his throat makes the whole thing that much hotter. It all blurs into a rush of sightsoundfeel and JC comes almost before he knows what's happening.

Nick follows before JC can tell him to wait, and rests for only a second, head against JC's hip, before he's up and moving across to the bathroom off the kitchen. JC lets the kitchen table hold him up until he trusts his legs, which is right about the time Nick reappears, tossing a washcloth at him and grabbing two bottles of water out of the refrigerator.

"Uh, thanks?" JC always feels like a dork, thanking someone for sex, but it seems only polite, especially when it was completely unexpected. Nick smirks and hands him one of the bottles, and if JC hadn't just come hard enough to buckle his knees, watching Nick wipe his slightly swollen mouth with the back of his hand would be enough to get him off right then and there.

"Anytime, man," Nick answers. "Listen, I need to go catch up with some guys; you gonna be okay here? 'Cause my ass won't be worth shit if you sneak out while I'm gone."

JC rolls his eyes. "I'm fine. I'll hang out." He takes a long swallow to keep from adding, _It's not like I've got anything else to do._

"That's big of you, man, 'specially since Jess probably hid your car keys." Nick drains his bottle and bumps his hip against JC's. "Later. You owe me."

JC mutters, "Promises, promises," but the kitchen's already empty.

***

JC wanders around the house for a while, not really snooping, just getting a feel for this new place, trying to guess how much is Lance, how much is Jesse, and how much is Diane and whatever decorator Lance hired. The weight room is nice and he thinks about putting it to use, but in the end is too unmotivated to do anything more strenuous than opening a beer and trying to figure out how to watch ESPN without messing up the TiVo/satellite connection Lance has hooked up.

Jesse walks in as the Cubs are doing their best not to fold in the bottom of the ninth. "Hey," Jesse says.

"Hey," JC says back, trying to focus on stroking Jackson's ears rather than second-guessing himself. "Nick went out a while ago, said something about seeing someone?" It occurs to him now that Nick was oddly unspecific, but Jesse nods.

"Yeah, he called me, said he probably wouldn't be back for dinner."

"Cool." JC stands up, stretching. "Speaking of dinner, it's..." This feels weird. But he _was_ invited, he's not crashing the party... much. "Um. If I'm staying, I need to. Go back home and get, y'know, some clothes and stuff."

He's not sure what reaction he expects from Jesse, but he gets a simple nod. "Good idea. I'll come with, if you don't mind, and pick up the car."

If he'd been hoping for a little more time alone, he seems to be out of luck. Then again, it's no hardship to be around Jesse--well, except when it is, but that isn't the case right now, and JC's got to stop expecting it to be that way if he wants this to work, doesn't he?

Too much thinking. "Okay. You had my keys..."

"In the bowl by the door," Jesse says, and JC grabs them as they head out.

It's only a short drive, down to Sunset and then back up again a few blocks later. JC's trying to decide whether asking about Jesse's day would be a good idea or not, when Jesse clears his throat and says, "You feeling better today? I mean--you got some rest. That's gotta be a good thing."

JC glances over quickly; the road doesn't lend itself to divided attention. But Jesse doesn't seem to be trying to needle him. "Yeah," he says. "I--sorry about yesterday, man. I mean, I still think you were out of line." More than that, but he's trying not to pick a new fight, right? Right. "But maybe if I hadn't been feeling so shitty before you even got there, maybe we could've talked about it at, y'know. A lower volume."

Jesse snorts softly. For a minute JC thinks he isn't going to answer, but then he says, "Well. My grandma always says my temper'll bite me hard one day." He laughs. "She should know, 'cause I'm pretty sure she's the one I got it from. Anyway. Sorry for jumping on you like that. I just--it makes me so--I want to make things better for him, y'know? And maybe I took that out on the wrong person."

There's no maybe about it, but JC'd have to admit he's done the same thing before. "It's nice," he says, "That you care about him that much."

"I don't see how anyone _wouldn't_," Jesse replies, "Once you get to know him." That was rather pointed, but JC decides to let it go. He doesn't bother to pull into the garage, just parks outside and shuts the engine off, then looks over at Jesse before opening the door.

"You want to come in, or I'll see you back at Lance's?"

Even though it's been a mostly civil drive, JC's still a little surprised when Jesse says, "I can come in."

Jesse follows him into the living room and gets distracted by the view over the canyon to the city. "Florida's so flat, y'know? I haven't gotten used to the hills out here yet."

JC says, "Florida's still home, but this has been a good place for me."

Jesse turns to look at him. "It's nice," he says politely, but not insincerely, and then laughs. "Hell, listen to me, like I'm used to houses like this."

JC smiles. "Not what I was used to either, growing up, not by any stretch."

Jesse stops in front of a picture of the group, one of the few JC has that's from a photo shoot. He's always loved the way Lance is wrapped around him, the implied comfort and trust, and even when he and Lance couldn't be in the same room together for more than five minutes, he never could take it down.

Watching Jesse look at that picture, JC says, "I don't expect it to be like that. Not now." Jesse looks up, startled, and JC shakes his head. "That wasn't even how it was then, not really; not when it was important." He steps up behind Jesse, to look over his shoulder at the familiar shot. "It was what we both wanted, but not what we had."

Jesse nods slowly, and JC adds, "I don't want to mess up what you have now. I guess... I want to know if I can fit." Somehow, he's gone from standing close to being completely in Jesse's personal space; it's a shock when Jesse turns to look at him and JC can see the pulse beating in his throat.

"You can," Jesse says. "Fit. I mean, there's room. We just have to figure out how it all goes together. It took time with Nick, but it worked. It's all..."

JC smiles. "More complicated?"

Jesse snorts. "Yeah, you can say that again."

JC closes his eyes for a second and then decides to go for it. "Can we simplify it? For now?"

Jesse inhales, and JC thinks he's going to say no, but then he tilts his head and says, "You mean like this?" He leans forward, brushing his lips against JC's, soft and sweet like the night before. Except this isn't the night before. They haven't spent all day hissing at each other, and JC doesn't feel like week-old pizza, and, well. And they're alone.

JC brings a hand up, curling his fingers around Jesse's jaw, and kisses him again. Still gentle, but deeper this time, stubble pricking his thumb as he rubs it over Jesse's skin, and he thinks they both moan at pretty much the same moment. "Yeah," he breathes, when he's willing to stop kissing long enough to speak.

Jesse's arms go around him, hands sliding over his hips to cup his ass and pull him closer, and oh, that's nice. JC arches against him, and they're kissing again; he could kiss like this all night.

Which reminds him. "Um," he says, licking his way out of the kiss with more than a little regret. But he doesn't want to fuck this up. "Is Lance gonna be, y'know. Wondering where you are?"

Jesse makes a soft sound that sends fire up JC's spine, but he blinks, considering the question. "I should call him," he says. "Tell him we'll be... a while?" JC nods. "Unless you'd rather go back," Jesse adds. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind. We could give him another show."

JC shakes his head. "No. I mean, later, sure, that was--I'd definitely be up for a repeat on that. But right now, no show. Just you and me."

Jesse licks his lips, nodding. He doesn't draw away as he reaches for his phone, doesn't pull back at all. Just presses the speed-dial and waits a few seconds. "Hey," he says, and JC wonders if his own eyes ever looked like that when he talked with Lance. "I'm good, you on your way home? Everything go okay today? Good. Yeah... I was calling to say, I'm over at JC's. I--" He pauses, then laughs. "Yeah. We are. So don't worry, huh? We'll be back in a while, but if you want dinner, go on ahead. Nick's hanging with Tommy or something; he said not to wait for him." Another pause, then, "Oh, I think I can do that. Definitely. Love you too." He flips the phone closed and slides it back into its holder. A breath, and then his focus is back on JC. "He said to give you a kiss for him."

That should feel weird, but it doesn't. "Okay," JC says, smiling. "And how is a kiss for him different from a kiss for you?"

"Mm," Jesse says, and there it is again, that shift JC remembers from Vegas. It's not as dramatic this time, because Jesse was already breathing sex, but it's still distinct, still noticeable. A degree of magnitude, maybe; Jesse somehow switches from sexy to pornographic, without moving a muscle. JC can't help wondering where he learned that.

"This is from Lance," Jesse says, his mouth warm and welcoming on JC's, the kiss open and giving and almost endless. Then, "This is me," and it's hungry and demanding, an invitation to so much more.

"This way," JC says, when they stop to breathe. He keeps hold of Jesse's wrist as he heads down the hall, not letting go until he's sitting on his bed, and even then, it's only to slide Jesse's t-shirt up so he can take his first taste.

Jesse shivers under his mouth, murmuring, "Ticklish," but pulls the shirt off and presses closer.

JC smiles against the warm skin, and deliberately licks a long, light path between waistband and ribs. Jesse jumps, but JC has his hips firmly in hand so he doesn't go far. "Fucker," Jesse laughs, trying to twist away. JC teases him a bit more, enjoying the squirming, before he drops his head and uses his teeth to tug open the top button of Jesse's jeans. The squirming ripples into an elegant shimmy, and a few seconds later, jeans and underwear are on the floor and Jesse's naked in front of him.

The thought flickers through JC's mind that he could suck Jesse off quick and nasty, and he knows from how hot it was in Vegas that he won't last long once the fucking starts in earnest. He could do that, and they could be back at the other house, probably before Lance even gets home, but it's a strangely unsatisfying thought. JC smooths his hands over Jesse's hips and says, "Do you know what I like?"

Jesse shakes his head, and JC traces slow, soft circles with his thumbs. "I like," he starts, then pauses to drop a kiss in the center of each circle. "I like finding out what the people I'm with like, what they really like, on my own, not asking them for anything but to trust me." Jesse's practically vibrating under his hands. "I like that a lot," he murmurs as he gently pulls Jesse closer.

Jesse moves with JC easily, flowing into his lap and then, later, onto the bed, and if it's not quite trust that he's giving, it's an openness that JC can appreciate and value. It's been far too long since he's cared enough to take the time to watch his partner with any level of attention, and that's an indulgence that he's only now realizing how much he's missed. He feels almost selfish as he takes his time discovering that every square inch of Jesse's back is an erogenous zone of stunning proportions.

It's strange and marvelous how Jesse can go from hissing accusations and tense mistrust to this pliant, accepting lover. Accepting and giving, because JC is getting something out of this, no doubt about that, and he decides without much internal debate not to waste time thinking when he could be touching, and licking, and rubbing. A bite on the sharp plane of Jesse's shoulder blade where it juts up from his back like a nascent wing wins JC a strangled groan that's so gorgeous JC knows he has to hear it again.

Soon the moans take shape, coalesce into words, "Please, please, God, JC--" and that's gorgeous too. Jesse makes JC feel strong, makes him generous, and if he'd wondered how it was that Lance had changed so much, so _deeply_, he suspects he may be beginning to understand. But this isn't about Lance, not this moment, not this hour. He'll be there later tonight, he and Nick both, but _now_ is enough all on its own.

When he slides the blade of his hand down the cleft of Jesse's ass, Jesse whines, arching up. JC licks leisurely down the column of Jesse's spine, then stops to bite again where the flesh softens and curves up. Jesse's panting now, still whispering "Pleaseplease" under his breath, and JC smiles.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, and he wonders if Jesse realizes he doesn't only mean Jesse's body. Jesse shifts, spreading his legs, honest and unashamed, and "Yes," JC breathes, sliding the flat of his thumb over Jesse's entrance before bending his head further to kiss and lick. Jesse moves under him bonelessly, helplessly aroused but still accepting, still waiting. And this is trust, after all, trusting that JC will be good to him, will give him what he so clearly wants.

When Jesse's moans start to sound impatient, JC pulls back, only an inch or two, his lips still brushing Jesse's skin. "Over," he says quietly, nudging Jesse's leg, and Jesse sighs, soft and sweet, and moves. Once he's settled on his back, JC nuzzles his erection, licking away the salt, then moves lower and starts the process again, massaging Jesse's feet until he wins a shuddered groan before starting to work his way back up.

"Tease," Jesse says, but there's no anger in it, and JC smiles.

"Patience," he replies, because he's going to make it worth Jesse's while, and they both know it.

Jesse is ticklish, as previously advertised, and he jumps when JC scrapes his teeth up the V of muscle at his hip. "Oh, _fuck_," Jesse says, breathlessly.

"Now, _that_ was a tease," JC says, and slides up Jesse's body to swallow his growl with a sloppy, messy half-laugh, half-kiss that turns serious the second Jesse gets both legs wrapped around JC's waist and grinds up into him.

"That wasn't," Jesse pants when JC tears his mouth away so he can figure out where the hell the condoms and lube have hidden themselves in the nightstand drawer.

"Good," JC groans, as he finally finds the right stuff. Jesse's rocking now, a slow, liquid roll of his hips that steals JC's breath with every slide of skin and muscle. If Nick hadn't blown him earlier, he'd have long since given in to the temptation to pin those hips to the mattress and see how fast he could get both of them off. But Nick took the edge off, enough that JC can keep his head, work two fingers deep inside Jesse until Jesse's words disintegrate into desperate, pleading noises.

Once he's inside, though, JC's control lasts all of three slow, smooth strokes, and then the heat and pressure and the soft, shuddering moans are too much. Jesse's worked his legs up and over JC's shoulders; his hands are wrapped tight around the headboard rail, and there's nothing to stop JC from going in hard. Jesse arches up to meet him and cries out with every thrust, taking it and asking for more.

It doesn't last very long, then, but it's long enough for the blood to ignite in JC's veins. Long enough for him to bend down and catch Jesse's mouth with his own again, long enough for him to wrap his fingers around Jesse's cock and squeezeslidestroke in ragged counterpoint to the beat of his hips. Long enough for Jesse to let go of the headboard to twist his fingers in JC's hair as he whispers, "Fuck, fuck, yeah, give it to me, that's it..."

JC does give it to him, everything he has, and when they're both slumped panting on the sheets, the sweat starting to cool on their skin, he turns his head to press another kiss into the smooth skin of Jesse's shoulder. "Thank you," he murmurs.

"Simple," Jesse says, breath sighing out, and JC could sleep now, too, he really could; one night wasn't enough to catch him up. He could close his eyes for a few minutes, quick catnap...

He groans and pushes himself to something approaching a sitting position. If he goes to sleep, he won't wake up; he knows himself that well at least. And it's not fair to Lance to leave him back at the house--Lance and Nick, depending on whether Nick's back yet--wondering what's going on over here.

Maybe Lance isn't concerned about it, though. Judging from Jesse's call earlier, he didn't sound worried. JC can't really wrap his head around that. Okay, he's not freaking out about what Lance and Nick might be doing, but he still doesn't really feel like he has any claim to them, either of them. If he was with Jesse, he'd sure as hell want to know who Jesse was...

Except he _is_ with Jesse. He just was, anyway, and the whole idea here is that he's going to be. With him and with all of them, and there'll be times when he's away--a lot of times, if the album ever fucking gets off the ground--and he's going to have to deal with knowing they're together. Lance and Jesse at least, and by the looks of it Nick a lot of the time, too.

This is all way too complicated for just-fucked-want-to-sleep brain. He gets up and heads for the shower, because going back to Lance's all sweaty from sex doesn't seem right. He's almost done when a draft announces that Jesse's vertical again. JC shuts the water off and reaches for a towel. "Shower's all yours," he says, stepping out, and Jesse turns from his position at the sink. "I mean, if you want to rinse off." Jesse's not really answering, so JC takes a step forward, looking a question at him before brushing a kiss over his mouth. "You okay?" he asks.

"Mmm." Jesse kisses him back, nodding at the same time, which is a bit awkward. "I'll, uh." He points. "Shower."

JC smothers a grin as Jesse slides by him, and answers as solemnly as he can, "Yes. That's a shower."

Jesse stops fiddling with the water and gives him a look that could curdle milk. He mumbles, "Carter. 'S all his fault. Fucking wiseass bad influence," right before he grabs JC's wrist and yanks him back into the stall.

JC could twist away, or sidestep, but he doesn't. So he finds himself back under the spray, but this time he has the company of a warm, naked, and deliciously relaxed Jesse, rather than his own disquieting thoughts. Jesse's a much better deal, JC decides.

Jesse really does like to kiss. Long and lazy, short and teasing, and every permutation between; all of them make him happy, and if JC's honest with himself, it's one of the better hours he's spent in far too long to remember. The water runs cool, but Jesse doesn't stop, even when they're out and trying to get dry. Given the way Jesse can wrap himself around a person, JC suspects the actual cleansing aspect of the shower is about to be wasted, but Jesse finally drops his head against JC's shoulder, murmuring, "Can we take this back to the other house?"

He looks up and meets JC's eyes steadily, not trying to hide his arousal. "This was great," he continues, dropping a kiss on JC's collarbone. "_You're_ being great, but I want to share it, want to share _you_ with them." JC's tense now; he can't help it, but Jesse presses closer and slides one hand through JC's hair. "Not a show, nothing to prove, just all of us, together."

JC nods slowly, though he really thinks Jesse's suffering from a serious case of over-optimism. Jesse brushes a kiss along the corner of his mouth. "We'll keep it simple, okay? Like this, but with all of us."

It's the "us" that gets to JC; Jesse's said it more than once, as if he's actually including JC in the mix, and that, JC finally admits, feels good. He relaxes a little and kisses Jesse back with intent, if not heat, and lets himself get lost in the taste and feel of Jesse for a few more minutes.

"That's a 'yes'?" Jesse asks, after a while.

"Yeah," JC says. "We'll give it a try."

"You say that around Nick and he'll be quoting Yoda to you all night, which, I don't know about you, man, but I can live without little bald green guys in my bed."

JC leans in so he can whisper in Jesse's ear, "Do or do not. There is no try," and then has to laugh at the protesting groan.

"Fuck, not another one."

"Too late, you already invited me," JC says smugly, and saunters off to pack some clothes.

***

The trip back to Lance's is quiet. He's feeling good enough that the awkwardness doesn't hit again until he pulls up next to Jesse in Lance's driveway. Jesse gets out of the Lexus and waits for him to grab his duffel, and yeah. Weirdness. It can't be worse than yesterday, though; it's almost guaranteed to be a whole lot better. And there's supposed to be more making out on the agenda, which is a very good thing. "You coming in, or what?" Jesse asks, and JC moves to catch up with him.

"Hey," Jesse calls as he opens the front door. "Dinner ready yet?"

Lance's laugh comes from the living room. "Some people. Leave me out of the sex, and then expect me to be slaving over a hot stove?"

"There's plenty more sex to go around, and I hardly think calling Why Cook? qualifies as slaving," Jesse shoots back, but he's in Lance's lap by the end of the sentence, so the sniping goes quiet pretty quickly.

"Mmm, you're in a good mood," Lance purrs after a long moment during which JC tries, without much success, to convince himself to turn away politely.

"I think maybe we get to keep him," Jesse stage-whispers, and JC manages a credible laugh.

"Good," Lance says, sliding Jesse off his lap and standing. His voice touches JC first, followed by his hand, soft fingers on JC's jaw. "You look better," Lance says, smiling, and leans up for a kiss.

JC slides his arms around Lance, his body so familiar despite its changes. More muscle doesn't change the way he smells, or the texture of his skin, and JC closes his eyes and drinks it in. "I feel better," he says against Lance's lips. "When he's not in attack mode, Jesse's damn good medicine. And so are you."

Lance kisses him again, and JC would be glad to stay like this for a long, long time, but after a few minutes Jesse clears his throat. "Any requests on dinner?" he asks. "I don't mean to interrupt, but speak now or you get whatever I order."

JC doesn't care; he raises an eyebrow at Lance, who turns his head slightly. "You know what I like."

Jesse chuckles, standing up, and then he's there next to them, kissing each of them briefly. "Yeah. I do," he says, and disappears into the kitchen.

"Where were we?" Lance asks, grinning, and melts into another kiss. So good, so good, and if there's stuff that's going to be messy, right now JC thinks it's definitely worth it. Lance's hands slide into JC's back pockets, and JC can remember so many stolen moments like this, backstage hallways and hotel rooms and he thinks he's never been happier than the times he's been with Lance.

Never been more miserable, either, but it's different this time. It feels different. It's going to _be_ different.

***

"Why Cook? saves the day again," Lance says as he closes the door. "I should invest in them."

"I thought you cooked," JC says to Jesse as they sort through the order. "That's what Nick says."

Jesse rolls his eyes, and Lance laughs at the face he's making. "Your reputation precedes you, baby."

Jesse stuffs a breadstick in Lance's mouth and says to JC, "Nick has a slightly over-inflated opinion of my cooking ability." He stacks the last box on the counter and shrugs. "I can do the usual too-broke-to-eat-out college student menu. Which, somehow, in Nick's eyes, makes me a gourmet chef."

Lance throws the bread back at Jesse. "He made a big first impression by not burning the eggs the first morning we were together."

Jesse's red now, and he looks at JC as though he's expecting some sort of slam. JC nods. "That'd stick in my mind, too. Never turn down food," he says, and Lance joins in to finish it with him. "You never know when you'll get another chance at it."

Jesse looks back and forth between them, and JC laughs and says, "Chris, man. We heard that ten times a day for what seems like twenty years."

Lance adds, "And Joey was right there with him."

Belatedly, JC thinks he shouldn't have brought up an inside joke like that, but it's an ingrained reflex. Jesse seems okay, though, and Lance isn't changing the subject, so maybe JC's overanalyzing again.

Dinner's good, not only the food, but the whole atmosphere. The only odd note is Nick not being around, and JC wonders when he got clued in enough to notice that Jesse and Lance seem a bit off-balance without him. It's something to think about; whether it's possible that they'll ever be like that with him. The idea is absorbing, so much so that by the time he comes back to reality, the table is clear and he can hear Jesse on the phone in the kitchen.

Lance says, "That was a good lost-in-thought, right?"

JC laughs a little, not exactly embarrassed to have been caught out, but not sure if he wants to talk about it yet. Lance doesn't press the issue, and that's another thing JC's not used to. The old Lance would have wanted to know everything, would have been hurt and suspicious if JC had even hesitated in sharing, but this Lance just smiles and drops a kiss on JC's hair before pointing out that the couch is a lot more comfortable than the dining room chairs.

When Jesse comes in to join them a few minutes later, Lance looks up, holding out an arm to invite Jesse in next to him, on the other side from JC. "How's Nick?" he asks.

Jesse chuckles. "I'm that predictable, huh?"

Lance nods. "And?"

"He's..." Jesse searches for words for a moment, then says, "He's on his way home."

That sounds less than completely reassuring, though better than that he's _not_ coming home, JC supposes. Jesse and Lance share a long look, but Jesse doesn't say anything more, and Lance just pulls him close.

***

The front door opens half an hour or so later, a few minutes into an episode of Law &amp; Order that JC's pretty sure he hasn't seen. Jesse's off the sofa and headed for the entryway like someone lit a fire under him. JC mutes the TV, looking to Lance for some idea of how to play this, but Lance raises an eyebrow at him and shrugs.

Nick's soft laugh filters in from the next room. "Dude. I was away for the afternoon, not a world tour." He sounds pleased, though, and JC figures having Jesse bowl you over with a welcome-home is a good thing no matter how you slice it. The two of them walk in, Jesse still half-twined around Nick, and Nick glances at the TV before leaning down to give JC and Lance each a quick kiss. "I see I've been missing an exciting evening," he says.

"Jesse drew the line at HGTV," Lance replies. "There's leftovers from Ca'Brea in the fridge, if you want."

"Sounds good," Nick says. "I'm gonna go grab a shower first, though. I'm all sandy."

"Want company?" Jesse asks.

JC thinks Nick hesitates for a second before grinning. "Gonna make sure I don't miss anywhere important?"

"Or something."

Once the two of them have disappeared upstairs, JC turns to Lance again. "Is it just me?" he asks, and Lance shakes his head.

"I don't think so. I'm not as good a judge as Jesse is, but if he's glued to Nick like that, there's a good reason for it. He doesn't stop to figure it out, goes on gut feel, but he's usually dead-on."

JC tries to think, but he doesn't have a lot to offer. "He was fine earlier," he says. "Nick. He was on the phone when I got up, talking to Howie; that didn't sound weird at all. We had lunch together, and, we, um." He clears his throat. This is a little awkward, after all.

Lance nods thoughtfully. "He started it, yeah?"

"Uh, yeah." JC starts to ask how Lance knew, but then remembers one of the things Jesse had said the day before, about Nick and sex. "He blew me." He doesn't have to give all the details. "Then he said he was going to hang out with--he didn't say who, but some of his guys, I guess. I wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders right then, but, it was kind of, I don't know, not quite right."

Lance turns the TV off, and says, "Whatever's going on, Jesse won't let it slide." He sounds pretty confident about that, but he also tugs JC to his feet, saying, "C'mon, you need to unpack."

JC tries to keep a straight face. "And you need to help because..."

"You don't know where you can put your clothes," Lance answers as he leads the way toward the master bedroom.

He repeats the excuse to Nick and Jesse when they stumble out of the bathroom, and JC sees Jesse hide a quick grin, but Nick accepts his words with a mumbled, "Good timing, then."

Jesse's already on the bed, and Nick moves over him slowly. JC kicks his duffel out of the way and sinks down on the edge of the mattress, mesmerized by the two of them. Lance slides in next to him, but he's as absorbed as JC is. Nick's talking softly, a nonstop murmur that accompanies the kisses and touches and has Jesse writhing on the sheets.

"God, I love you like this," Nick's saying, "Even more than I love watching you on your knees." He pinches and rolls Jesse's nipples, working them roughly, until JC feels his own tighten in response to the noises Jesse makes. "Love seeing how much you'll take from me, what makes you beg." Jesse shudders, and JC can see the flash of teeth as he bites down on his lower lip. Nick spreads him out on the bed, pressing slowly inside him, groaning, "Fuck, Jess, so open. Who's had you, who did you today?"

Jesse whispers, "JC," and gasps as Nick pushes in hard, but never once takes his eyes off Nick's face. Nick doesn't look anywhere but Jesse, and JC realizes they're not doing this for his benefit, or Lance's. They're so focused on one another, he and Lance are mostly forgotten.

Nick moves with a restraint that surprises JC, especially when he thinks about the night in New York, and how out of control it was. But here, now, Nick's watching Jesse and JC can tell that every touch, every kiss, every shift of his hips is exactly what Jesse wants and needs. However much physical pleasure Nick's taking from it, JC can see he's getting ten times that from being the one who's making Jesse crazy.

It's beautiful. That's the only word for it. Well, maybe not the only one. Hot as fucking hell, too, but beautiful's the thing JC keeps thinking. The way their bodies move together, but more than that, the way they... feed off each other isn't exactly right, but something like that. Like singing, he thinks, the way singing with someone else, someone you know and who knows you, can be so much more than singing alone. The way you push each other, make each other better, make the whole experience _more_. What he had with Jesse, earlier, was good, but this, this is like a picture of what the future could be. Nick touches Jesse _rightthere_, and Jesse arches up in response, which makes Nick kiss him _justso_, and on and on until Jesse's begging, "Please, please," and JC knows there's no one on that bed who thinks Nick isn't going to give Jesse what he's asking for.

When Jesse's words stop, when his muscles contract and he comes, Nick stroking him through it, still talking, still telling him how sexy he is, how special, how loved, JC feels like he should look away. This is beyond intimacy, and the question JC has been trying not to ask himself is laid out before him, as starkly as it ever could be: What does he have to add to this? What more could he possibly bring?

Lance hasn't said a word since Nick and Jesse started, and he doesn't move until Nick eases himself down, more next to Jesse than on top of him, but with his head on Jesse's chest. Then Lance shifts forward, touching Nick's sweat-slick shoulder. "Hey," he murmurs.

Nick shivers at the touch, and raises his head slightly. "Hmm?"

Lance bends down to kiss Nick's throat, eliciting another shudder, and a groan. "From where I'm sittin', it seems pretty damn strange to say there's something wrong with this picture, but I think part of the deal is usually that _both_ guys get off."

JC blinks. That's... but no, Lance is right. When Jesse came, Nick just... stopped. JC'd assumed--well, he'd assumed the obvious, but now, looking at Nick, he can see he was wrong. Nick's still wired, still jumping at every touch.

"I'm cool," Nick says, and JC shakes his head as Lance snorts.

"That's great, you get a gold star for generosity in fucking, but first off, once Jesse comes out of that coma you fucked him into, he'd be pissed as hell, and second, duh, he's not the only one available to help, y'know?" Lance is touching as he talks, stroking Nick's skin, and JC can see Nick think about arguing for a moment before giving in.

"Yeah?" Nick drawls, shifting over on his side. Jesse's eyelashes flutter when Nick moves, and he mutters something completely indecipherable. "Shh," Nick soothes, and Lance chuckles.

"He's fine. More than fine, I'd say. But I think we were talking about you." Lance eases Nick a little further to the side, but only enough so he can curl around Nick without putting his weight on Jesse, too. His hands never stop moving, tracing slow patterns on Nick's skin, and JC can see the fine shudders that follow in their wake. Nick presses his face into the curve of Jesse's neck and Jesse brings one hand up to stroke through Nick's damp hair.

JC's not sure why, but instead of moving to Lance, he finds himself stretched along Jesse's other side. Jesse makes a soft, welcoming sound and somehow sinks into JC without moving away from Nick or Lance, or untangling his hand from Nick's hair.

Lance is patient, and as attentive to Nick's responses as Nick was to Jesse's, and that's something JC remembers from so many nights together. Nick pants harshly under Lance's mouth and hands until, soon, he groans wordlessly into Jesse's skin. Lance flashes a smile at JC, then rests his forehead against Nick's shoulder and breathes deeply. It's quiet and comfortable, and JC relaxes into Jesse, until Nick mutters something and JC feels Jesse come alert with a jolt.

"What?" Jesse says, sharply. "What did you say?"

Nick's quiet for a second; completely still. Then, "Nothing," he says. "Go back to sleep." He's doing a pretty good job at sounding casual, but even with Jesse between them, JC can feel the tension in his body.

"Back to sleep, my ass," Jesse retorts. "You said you'll miss this, didn't you?"

At that, Nick slides out from between Jesse and Lance, coming to rest slumped over on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees.

Jesse pulls away from JC and leans up, eyes fixed so firmly on Nick's back that JC wonders if Nick feels pinned in place. Lance slides down the bed to sit next to Nick, but Nick doesn't look at him.

"Why?" Jesse asks. When Nick shrugs and scrubs his hands through his hair, Jesse shakes his head. "I know you're not stupid enough to think I'm going to drop this."

Nick's laugh is one of the least happy sounds JC's ever heard, and that's including countless arguments with Lance. "No, I'm not quite that stupid."

JC knows that tone of voice; he remembers it from New York, and he almost winces at the expression on Jesse's face. Jesse closes his eyes for a second, but he doesn't let it go.

"No," Jesse echoes, voice flat with suppressed emotion. "You're not."

Nick sits silently for a long time, staring at the floor. "I just," he finally says quietly, not looking up. "I've been thinking about things. A lot of things."

"And?" Jesse prompts softly.

Nick looks up then, twists around to meet Jesse's eyes. "The thing is, Jess, he's crazy about you." Lance jerks a little, but Nick ignores him and keeps talking. "As crazy about you as you are about him. And him and C--" Nick glances quickly at JC, but then looks back to Jesse, "You know as much as me that there's stuff there that's never going away. We wouldn't be here if there wasn't."

JC forces himself to look at Lance, and God, he hates seeing pain in the green eyes that meet his.

"Nick--"

"Jess." Nick shakes his head. "You," he takes a deep breath and starts again. "You're gonna be fine, there's no way JC's not going to love you."

JC waits for more, waits for Nick to finish, but the silence stretches endlessly.

"I'm going to be fine?" Jesse finally says. "I will, but you won't?" He's pale now, and so tense that JC thinks he'd shatter from a touch. "Because you're taking yourself out of the equation?"

"Didn't you hear what I said? I'm not _in_ the equation, not on the same level--"

"Now would be a good time to speak up," Jesse snaps, eyes on Lance.

And that--Jesse actually mad at Lance--is really enough, JC thinks. "No," he says, sitting up. "I told you I wasn't going to mess this up for you; I told you," he looks at Lance, "and you," then Jesse, "and I would have told _you_," he lets his eyes sweep over Nick, "if you'd stayed long enough to have a conversation this afternoon."

He's off the bed before he finishes, and it's only a few steps to the door. "I wasn't kidding, and I might have been too selfish to walk away before, but not now. I'm sorry," he says, looking at Lance, but meaning it for all of them, and closing the door behind him.

***

Shoes, JC thinks. Shoes, keys, wallet. Everything else he can get later, and if he really needs to, he can drive home barefoot, so, keys and wallet. His keys are in the bowl by the front door, where he followed Jesse's lead and dropped them on the way into the house. He's not going to think about the cozy domesticity of that, not now, and probably not ever. His wallet is... somewhere, and if his heart would stop racing and he could catch his breath, he'd be able to remember where he left it, but since his body seems to be operating on a different agenda, he's wandering around the house aimlessly.

It's not by the front door, and it's not in the kitchen, and he's on his way back to the media room when he hears a door close and Jesse calls, "JC?"

It _is_ in the media room, right where he took it out of his pocket when he settled in to watch TV with Lance and Jesse, and that's where Jesse catches up with him.

"Don't," JC says, when Jesse touches him, but Jesse ignores him and wraps strong fingers around his arm, almost exactly where Nick grabbed him and slammed him up against the wall three nights ago.

"Don't go," Jesse says, and doesn't look away when JC stares at him. "Don't," he repeats.

JC shakes his head, but Jesse doesn't let go, just reaches up and carefully touches JC's face. "Please."

Something cracks inside JC and it's stupid, ridiculous even, because he never once cried when things fell apart with Lance for good, but here he is, in the middle of Lance's house, years after everything, with tears on his face--and it's not Tyler or any of the guys who went through it with them who's standing in front of him, but Lance's _lover_ and nothing is making sense at all.

Jesse steers him to the couch and takes his keys and wallet out of his hands. JC doesn't know why he lets go. Nothing's changed. He still doesn't have Lance; yet another attempt has flamed out, and even worse, this time he hasn't only hurt Lance and himself, but other people, too. He needs to go, be someplace alone and private, but Jesse's sitting with him, talking quietly, not crowding him, but there, real and comforting, and he can't make himself move.

"It's not you, okay?" Jesse's saying. "That was all about Nick and what it takes for him to believe something good can last for him. What he's afraid of isn't going to happen, we're _not_ going to replace him, no matter what, so you don't have to leave to make it work."

JC opens his mouth, but Jesse won't let him say anything. "Even if you go--which you're not--Nick'd still have to deal with that."

"Why are you here?" JC asks. It's not what he thought he was going to say, but then, why should his brain have stopped working independently now?

Jesse shrugs, reddening a little. "After what I said to Lance? If I hadn't been on my way out the door already, he pretty much would have been throwing me out so he could talk to Nick. And I didn't want you to leave, none of us did."

JC can't help laughing at that, even though he half-chokes and ends up coughing and sniffling. It's so many different kinds of wrong. "What a difference a day makes," he finally manages. "Yesterday Nick and I were fine, but you would have been leading the charge to get me the hell out of town. Right now I'm sure he'd like nothing more than to forget I even exist... and here you are."

Thinking about it, about the way Jesse'd been ready to do battle--unnecessarily--on Nick's behalf, leads JC back around to the real issue. "You were wrong yesterday," he says. "What happened with Nick and me, in New York. Honestly. It didn't hurt him." Jesse doesn't answer, and JC doesn't wait for him to. "But," he continues, "this, this _is_ hurting him. You can't deny it. Even if, like you say, it's something he has to deal with, you have to help him deal with, I'm making it worse. So why? Why not, y'know. Keep things the way they were."

"Lance--"

JC shakes his head. "Lance wouldn't have even started this if you guys hadn't told him it was okay. He said that to all of us together, and he said it to me alone. He doesn't..." It's hard to say the words. _Be careful what you wish for._ "He doesn't need me anymore." He can hear the words in Lance's voice, see Lance saying them to him, meaning them. "You guys, you're all he needs to be happy. I'm just a complication." That sounds incredibly pathetic, but it feels pretty pathetic, too, so he figures he'll have to live with it.

Jesse's quiet for a minute. Long enough for JC to admit to himself that he really wanted Jesse to tell him he was wrong. Which--yes. Pathetic. "You _are_ a complication," Jesse finally says. "And you're right, Lance probably wouldn't have done anything, said anything, if we--if _Nick_ hadn't pushed him to." He shakes his head. "I don't know… maybe he's been thinking this, right from the beginning, that he wasn't going to be in the picture long." He shakes his head. "Sometimes I want to kick him, y'know? Except I know he's not doing it on purpose."

"Jane Carter's a real piece of work," JC says. "It's... I mean, on MMC, we saw a lot of stage moms, and some of them were pretty bad. And, hell, Lynn's pretty driven, and I don't always agree with her, but I don't think she's ever in her life wanted anything except what she thought was best for Justin. Jane, though..."

Jesse sighs. "There's not much we can do about her, but we _can_ do something about Nick. We have been--Lance and I--and I thought we'd, y'know, made him understand that he's _part_ of us... but I guess we were kind of stupid to think it would all be better after a month or two. We'll just have to keep working on it." He takes a breath. "Anyway, this isn't about Nick, not right now, it's about you. You and Lance, for starters. No, he wouldn't have ditched us to get back with you. He's not that kind of guy, for one thing, and for another, well," he shrugs, "he loves us. Both of us. It's nothing I ever expected, and it's more than I deserve, and it's _real_. But that doesn't change the fact that he loves you, too. How did he say it? Part of him belongs to you, something like that. So when you say why, that's the answer. Not because he'd be lost and alone without you; he wouldn't be. But Nick taught both of us how much better things can be than we ever realized. So why would we want to take that away from Lance? And," he adds, "y'know, even with maybe the occasional misunderstanding, I'm willing to believe you might be worth the effort."

"And what if I'm not?" JC asks.

Jesse shrugs. "Isn't that the risk everyone takes when they start a relationship?" He stands up and tugs JC with him, and when JC doesn't follow, he says, "You know Lance wants you to stay. You and me, okay, we're not much more than a semi-random hook-up right now, but do you know me well enough to know that I don't say what I don't mean?"

"Yeah," JC nods. "I do know that, but--" He hesitates, because he needs to choose his words carefully. "I also think you're maybe not seeing things as clearly as you think, because Lance does want this, want _me_, so much."

Jesse shrugs again. "Maybe I'm not, but you leaving isn't going to make a bit of difference to Nick, it'll upset Lance, and it's not going to make me happy. If you don't want to deal with all of this, I can't change that. But Nick said something to me yesterday, while you and Lance were talking in the pool--that I was making it about him, because it was easier than figuring out what was really going on." Jesse meets JC's eyes seriously. "And, yeah, he was talking about me and my temper, but what he said is pretty much the only way I can see us, all of us, figuring out how, _if_, this is going to work."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" JC shakes his head. "Grabbing for any excuse?"

"No," Jesse says quickly. "It's... not easy to keep things separate." His hand tightens on JC's. "Fuck," he says. "I don't know. Maybe that's what I'm doing, too."

"Maybe you are," JC says, but smiles to take the sting out of his words, and lets Jesse pull him to his feet. This time, it's JC's wrist in Jesse's hand on the walk down the hall. In the bedroom, Nick's still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Lance is next to him, but he glances up when the door opens. He looks from JC to Jesse, his expression somewhere between bleak and desperate. JC's seen that look before and he hates it, even when he's not the one causing it. Jesse's tense at his side, and it's not JC's place, but _somebody_ needs to say something.

"What's your deal, Carter?" he asks. Jesse's hand tightens on his wrist, and Lance looks at him sharply. Nick studiously ignores him. JC unwraps Jesse's hand and gives him a little push toward Lance, then takes the chair from the small writing desk and turns it around so he can straddle it backwards. "You were doing a damn fine yenta act in Vegas; you had no problem with hooking up with me in New York, but now what? The drama quotient got low, and it's your job to make sure things don't get boring?"

"Fuck. Off," Nick says, through gritted teeth, and JC smiles. Verbalized hostility is some progress, anyway.

"C--" Lance starts, but JC's willing to be the bad guy here, say what Jesse and Lance are never going to be able to. He's still enough of an outsider that he can get away with brutal honesty, and maybe even be forgiven for it someday.

"No, really," JC continues. "You've got a damn sweet set-up here, but you're going to piss it away because Lance and Jesse are blind crazy for each other, and I've got history with Lance? Weak, cat. Very weak."

"You don't know anyth--"

"I know I had Jesse in my face yesterday, having one royal fit because he thought I didn't treat you right." JC shakes his head. "Man, J gets the diva rep, but you, you really take the prize. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your shoes? To have somebody who cares that much about them and isn't afraid to show it?"

Nick makes a noise like he doesn't want to hear any more, but JC's only getting started. "Do you know," he asks softly, purposely not looking at Jesse or Lance, "how fucking envious I was of that? How jealous I was that you had him in your corner and I was on the outside looking in?" Nick finally looks at JC, and JC sees the confusion in his eyes. "And you're going to throw that away, because you're too damn scared that it might not work out." JC shrugs. "You're a lot of things, Carter, but I never figured you for the type who cuts and runs on people who love him."

"I'm not running!" Nick's up off the bed now, pacing toward the window and then back again, his hands flexing. "Goddamn it, Chasez, I liked you a lot better when we were fucking more and talking less."

"I'm sure," JC says. "To be honest, I can't really argue with you on that one. But as I was so loudly reminded by your fan club, you don't get one without the other around here." He stops a moment, then adds, "And, y'know, I'm not big on the whole talk-about-your-feelings thing, either, but Jesse's right about part of it. This _isn't_ just a random hookup. Not you and me, and definitely not you and them. Deal with it."

Nick stops pacing, midway between the dresser and where JC's sitting. "I'm pretty sure you don't get to tell me what I have to do," he says, and JC sighs.

"This isn't a pissing contest," he says. "This is about Lance sitting over there looking like he wants to rip himself in pieces. That's what seeing you like this does to him." Nick's fists clench at his sides, but JC keeps talking. He doesn't see the need to pull any punches; maybe this will get through to Nick where gentler words haven't. "He loves you. Maybe you don't know why, and maybe I don't know why, and maybe he couldn't _say_ why, or maybe he could, but none of that changes the fact that he _does_. And believe me, when Lance loves someone, he doesn't stop because it might be easier or more convenient, or even because the person's treating him like shit. That's not how he is. There's probably only a handful of people on this planet that he'd walk on coals for, but you're one of them. So you can sit here and make yourself and everyone else in the house miserable, but it's not going to change how he feels about you. Take it from someone who should know."

JC's finally run out of words, and it's quiet in the room. He can't look at Jesse and Lance, but nobody's hit him yet, so maybe he didn't just undo every last bit of forward progress he's made. Nick's still tense, but he's not trying to let it out anymore. "Fuck," he says after a long moment. He glances quickly around the room, then back at JC. "Fuck." He lifts one hand, twisting his fingers in his hair and pulling, like maybe he can get his brain to work better that way.

Jesse gets up off the bed and puts his hand on top of Nick's, soothing him into letting go, then combing the blond strands back into place. Nick looks up. "I'm not trying to stress you--both of you--out," he says to Jesse. "I just. Fuck. It's hard."

JC thinks maybe he should let everyone have a little privacy, but when he stands up, Lance has crossed the room somehow, and he wraps himself around JC before JC can even take a step. Lance is shaking, or maybe it's JC, but either way, the best thing to do seems to be to hold on as tightly as he can. JC's not sure how, but they end up on the bed, and Jesse and Nick are there, too, and Lance curled into him starts to fill the empty places inside, and his kisses--long and lingering and gentle--promise to make up for the years of anger and distance. Even when Lance moves away to be nearer to Nick, JC's not alone. Jesse sprawls out on top of him, relaxed now, or simply exhausted, but warm either way, and it's easy for JC to smooth his hands down the long line of Jesse's back. Lance isn't far; JC can touch him without having to stretch, and it's way too soon to count on anything, but it feels like maybe--just maybe--he can see the start of how they're going to fit this all together.


End file.
